The Start of an Apology
by WhiteFires
Summary: Book One of "The Road to Camlann" - Morgana believes that Merlin knows who Emrys is and she is determined to get this information from him no matter how unwilling he is. She corners him in the forest and then something awful happens. Later that day, Merlin's body is returned to Camelot ... Takes place post season 4.
1. Chapter 1

_Okay, so this is my first ever fanfic! Yay, exciting! I'm a bit nervous about the response this will get, so please review so I know how it is!_

_The plot bunnies sort of attacked me in two different groups for this, I decided to put the two ideas into one story as it kind of went together. Again please review so I know if it does._

_Right, what else do I need to say? Oh yeah, disclaimer._

_I don't own Merlin, if I did I would be sitting on set right now, writing scripts and geeking out about how I own Merlin. But unfortunately I don't, so I'm not._

_I think that's it, so without further ado, read on!_

* * *

Morgana was waiting. She had been waiting for so long. But finally, _finally_ she would know. She would know who Emrys was.

She had been having visions again, visions not even her healing bracelet could block, and every night she would be forced to look into Emrys' deep blue eyes and feel the same dreaded fear of him. He was her destiny … and her doom. That's what she had been told by Cailleach. That's what she was afraid of.

And now, standing alone in the woods, the sun not yet over the horizon, she was not thinking of Emrys, but of another. Each night, as her dreams ended, a face would present itself to her, a painfully familiar face, and as the image faded, she would hear herself saying, "You know who Emrys is." She knew the face. She knew the person. And she knew where to find him.

The face was Merlin's. Merlin knew who Emrys was. And she _would_ find out.

* * *

At that very moment, Merlin was in King Arthur's chambers, attempting to wrestle his master out from underneath the bed covers, quite unaware of Morgana's plans.

"Come on sire!" he shouted cheerfully. "It's time to get up!"

"Merlin!" came the muffled yell from the pillow.

Arthur was being quite stubborn. He didn't want to get up that early, and couldn't see why he should have to get up that early.

"You'll be late for the ride!"

Arthur groaned. Of course. Gwen's ride in the woods. She had suggested it the previous day, saying it would be nice for them to go for a ride, and it would, had it not been freezing cold and the ground covered with snow.

"Do I have to go?" he whined like a small child.

"Yes! Both Gwen and Ayra are ready. You'd better hurry if you want breakfast."

Arthur groaned again and rolled out from under the covers.

"Don't look so happy, Merlin," he said to his annoyingly cheerful servant.

Merlin dropped his smile and donned a laughable sombre face.

"That's even worse, you know," he said, looking at the meal he had set out for him.

Two pears and a bit of bread.

"Where's my meat?"

Merlin went back to his cheerful grin and pulled back the curtains. Arthur sighed, not wanting to enter another "you're fat" argument.

"Why are you looking so pleased anyway?" he asked him.

"Oh, you know, it's a good day!"

"Is it? Is it really?"

"Yes. Shut up and eat your pears."*

They were going for a ride in the Darkling Woods; and despite Arthur barely managing to get up, Merlin eventually dragged him outside.

* * *

Ayra rode proudly on her horse beside Queen Guinevere, her mare trotting calmly beside her mistresses'. They were a small party; only the king, queen, Merlin, Ayra and a couple of guards.

Ayra had been the queen's maidservant for over two months now, and she liked her mistress very much; she was a kind and gentle queen, and a good friend to her. Her mistresses' husband, King Arthur, rode on his horse at the head of their small party, Merlin beside him. Ayra had taken a great liking to Merlin, he was a very good person; she had seen that from the first moment she met him when he took the blame for another servant's mistake. She hadn't spoken to him much, but being the king and queens servants, they crossed paths often. He always had a smile ready for her, no matter what gruelling task Arthur was making him do.

Ayra was grateful for the fresh air, there was little time on her hands these days to go for a walk in the woods like she used to, although, she had to admit, she had more time than most servants. Having been a servant herself for most of her life, Guinevere was quite capable of doing most of the things she did for her, and sometimes even gave her the day off. On days like these, Ayra would go to the woods. She could stay hidden in the trees for hours and no one would come looking for her. She would spend her time climbing trees, swimming in rivers, or just running for the sake of it. She loved the way the wind whipped the light brown hair off her face. She looked forward to days like these; they were the highlight of her life, apart from Merlin's smiles of course.

Ayra looked around at him. He sat tall on his horse, looking placidly ahead, the faintest of smiles upon his face. His raven hair stood out against the white of the snow that covered the ground. She shivered slightly, and pulled her cloak further around her shoulders. She had never liked the cold, and this was one of the bitterest winters anyone could remember.

She tried to forget the ice in her bones and breathed in deeply letting her eyes close for a few seconds, the sounds of the forest filling her ears. Of birds singing, leaves rustling in the wind, the soft crunch of the freshly fallen snow beneath the horses' hooves. And the whistle of an arrow passing through the air beside her bare neck. She felt the air whoosh past her as it missed her by inches.

She opened her eyes and her heart gave an unpleasant jolt as she saw bandits pouring in from all sides over the edge of the small gulley they were in. The mercenaries had waited until the small party were halfway through the gulley and then attacked, meaning they wouldn't be able to make it to the end before the bandits completely closed in on them. Ayra and the others were completely outnumbered, and of the six of them, only three had any means of defending themselves. Arthur and the two guards jumped off their horses and drew their swords, preparing to fight.

"Merlin!" Arthur called. "Take Gwen to safety!"

Merlin nodded once although Arthur didn't see it – he had already turned and engaged a bandit in battle – and spurred his horse onwards through the gulley. Gwen and Ayra followed, urging their horses to go as fast as they could. Only two bandits stood in their way. As they drew closer, one of the men tripped over his own feet causing him to stumble into his comrade. He too fell over, and the three charged straight at them, making the men run to safety so they wouldn't be trampled to death. Ayra thanked their lucky stars that the men had fallen over, what were the chances?

Once they were free of the ambush, Ayra turned to one side to check on her queen, and she saw her panic mirrored in Gwen's features and was sure that their hearts were beating equally loudly. Looking ahead at Merlin, who was riding just in front of them, she saw only his raven hair whipping back in the wind. She couldn't see his face. As he rode, the neckerchief around his neck came undone and was whipped away by the wind. It swooped past Ayra and she turned her head to see it disappear between the trees.

About half a minute later, as they passed a small brook, the air around them suddenly exploded. Ayra was thrown from her horse and flew through the air, landing a good fifteen feet away. She was momentarily stunned, unable to move, all the breath forced from her body, and then she felt the air return to her lungs and lifted her head. She had landed almost in the brook, her left leg resting in the bubbling waters, the water running over her foot, soaking the edge of her dress. A short distance away she saw Gwen, quite close to the path and when she turned her head around she spotted Merlin, who was just three feet away from her, unmoving. Steeling herself for the worst, she crawled over to him. As she reached his head, he groaned and opened his eyes a fraction. Breathing a sigh of relief, she said, "Merlin? Are you alright?"

Recovering quickly, he scrambled to his feet and looked wildly around. Ayra rose as well and glanced at Gwen, who she was relieved to see also getting to her feet. It seemed none of them had been seriously injured. She was about to go to her queen, when Merlin grabbed her arm, making her stop.

"What is it?" she asked him.

His gaze was focused to the right, over by the path. Whipping her head around, she saw a lone figure, striding towards them. They wore a long, black cloak, the hood drawn up so they couldn't see their face. Merlin however seemed to know exactly who it was.

"Run," he said.

"What?"

"Run!"

The figure strode past Gwen – who stumbled backwards as she saw the figures face – and completely ignored her, making straight for Merlin and Ayra.

Ayra felt a sudden panic clutch at her heart. It was a sorcerer, it must be. How else could someone have ripped the air apart like that?

The two turned tail and leapt over the brook, Merlin still clinging on to Ayra's sleeve, dragging her along. He was a fast runner, and she found it hard to keep up with his long stride, despite her runs in the woods. The figure kept after them, never pausing and never going at more than a fast walk, but somehow they were easily keeping up with them. They were, in fact, gaining. After a few long and fast-paced minutes, Ayra broke away from Merlin, her heart threatening to jump out of her throat.

"I can't … go on. I need … to … stop," she gasped, clinging to a tree for support.

"Ayra, she's coming!"

She didn't question who she was, only leaned against the bark of the tree and closed her eyes.

"Go. I'll catch up," she lied.

"I'm not leaving you here!" he protested.

She gave him a weak smile and said, "I'll be fine," looking into his blue eyes.

"Ayra," he warned her.

"Merlin."

They both whipped around at the voice. The figure had finally caught up with them. They had removed their hood so now Ayra could clearly see who it was. She recognised the dark hair and pale green eyes immediately. Morgana.

She stood next to the nearest tree, watching them as though she had been for some time. She gave them a leer when they saw her, and slowly closed the distance between them.

"Long time no see, _old friend_," she said bitterly.

"I haven't considered you my friend for a long time," Merlin replied.

Ayra was surprised at the cold authority in his voice, the quiet anger. She had never heard him speak like that before.

"Now, there's no need to be rude. I only wanted to ask you a simple question," Morgana stepped even closer to them.

Ayra shivered. A bad feeling was creeping up her spine. She was worried, scared, _terrified_. Something bad was about to happen, she could feel it.

Morgana took another step, and she was just ten feet from them.

"Who is Emrys?"

Merlin stiffened. The name meant nothing to Ayra, however he clearly recognised it. He stayed silent, saying nothing.

"Not going to tell me?" said Morgana, her tone darkening. "Then maybe this will loosen your tongue."

She spoke a few short words in a language Ayra didn't recognise and suddenly something silver and wispy was flying through the air towards Merlin. There was barely any time to react. All he could do was emit a small gasp as the enchantment shot straight towards his chest. Ayra took one look at the thing flying towards her friend and didn't stop to think about what she was doing. She leapt in front of it, turning her back to Morgana and wrapping her arms around Merlin. She closed her eyes and –

She was nothing.

* * *

_*Okay, so that line came from The Hunger Games. Awesome book by the way, read it._

_How was it? Was it good? Bad? Utterly atrocious? If it gets a good reception I will continue to update!_

_... Oh who am I kidding, I'm going to continue writing it anyway!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Here we are, chapter two! I'm probably going to be updating like crazy for a while, because I've got most of it all worked out ... most of it. After that I'll be updating a little slower, mainly working out the best place to finish this thing, which mainly depends on the reception it gets._

_I don't own Merlin._

_Conctructive criticism wanted. After all, I did come to this site to learn._

_Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

Arthur spurred his horse on through the gulley. The fighting had ended just as suddenly as it had started. They had been losing, just him and the two guards against at least a dozen bandits, which wasn't much considering what he had faced in the past, but they were still outnumbered.

In the instant that Arthur glimpsed an axe poised to split his skull, everything turned a blinding shade of white. A second later, the air was ripped with an explosion and a shock wave made its way through the gulley, blasting back the men, making them stagger. The bandit he had been engaged in battle with dropped his axe, turned tail and fled, as had all the other bandits. Arthur had looked around in confusion, wondering why they had all run off and what that explosion had been.

With a jolt to his heart, he realised the explosion had come from the direction Merlin had taken Gwen and Ayra in.

He had mounted his horse once more and kicked it into action, galloping towards the end of the gulley. He had only to ride for a few seconds before he saw the flash of red.

He pulled on his reins and the horse came to a halt. He jumped off and ran to the splash of colour against the pure white of the snow. It was Merlin's neckerchief, it must have come loose.

He clenched it in his hand and looked up, having heard something. There was someone coming through the undergrowth.

* * *

Merlin had seen the enchantment come flying at him so quickly he had only time to close his eyes before contact. But instead of Morgana's spell, he had felt a pair of arms wrap around his body, someone shielding him from the magic. In the fraction of a second before the spell hit, his eyes had flown back open and he saw whose arms they belonged to, Ayra. She had jumped in the way incredibly fast; she must have had have very good reflexes.

And then Morgana's spell had crashed into the girl's back, sending silvery blue ripples coursing all over her body. Ayra had convulsed once and fallen still, her body collapsing to the ground. Merlin had followed not long after, the ripples making their way across his body too. He felt their power and gasped aloud, it felt like his skin was freezing solid. It lasted only a moment, the next it was gone. He lay on the hard ground, his flesh now growing cold from the snow. He reached out a hand and grasped onto the nearest thing he could find, Ayra's arm. He clung on to it, as though it was his life force, and looked up. The last thing he saw before he lost consciousness was Morgana leaning over him, her eyes strangely glowing.

* * *

Gwen stumbled through the trees, trying to make her way back to Arthur. Once Morgana had vanished in pusuit of Merlin and Ayra, she turned and ran, knowing their only chance was if she could get to Arthur in time. Her horse had bolted, as had Merlin's, and both were nowhere to be found. Ayra's lay dead beside the path.

She ran through a thicket and paused to breath, clutching the stitch in her side, listening for voices. Thinking that she heard something off to the left, she headed in that direction. Gwen picked up her pace, terrified of the thought of what might have become of Merlin and Ayra if she didn't find help in time.

Bursting through a particularly thorny bush, she emerged in a clearing, close to the gulley where they had been attacked. She listened for voices again, praying that Arthur was nearby. She couldn't hear anything, not voices, or the sound of clashing swords, so she called out, "Arthur?"

"Guinevere?" came the reply.

She ran over the soft ground and Arthur came into view from behind a large oak, something red clutched in his hand. She rushed to his arms and he embraced her tightly.

"Where are Merlin and Ayra?" he asked, looking behind her.

Gwen pulled back from their embrace and fought back tears.

"Oh, Arthur. We were attacked. Morgana …"

* * *

Morgana looked down upon the two bodies lying in front of her. The girl was clearly dead. Her eyes were wide and unseeing, her chest did not rise and fall as air entered her lungs, and a small trickle of blood was making its way down her cheek from the corner of her mouth. Merlin, however, had only been rendered unconscious. His eyes were closed and she could still hear his rhythmic breathing.

The spell had only meant to cause pain, not death. Of course, she had intended for Merlin to take the blow, not the girl. She had such a slight frame, it was no wonder the spell killed her; she looked as if a mere breath of wind could knock her down.

However, as Morgana bent down beside the two unmoving bodies, she noticed something about the girl. She couldn't describe it exactly, she only knew that she could feel a certain power if she neared the girl's body. It was as though the air was tingling, bursting with energy. _Magic_, Morgana thought to herself. She could feel the raw power the girl was emitting, even in death. It seemed that the girl had been born with magic, like she herself. But unlike her, Morgana could sense that there was something not quite right about it. This magic had been suppressed, choked even. Perhaps the girl had done this to herself, perhaps she had done it unconsciously, or perhaps she hadn't even been aware of this power she possessed.

_Strange_, she thought, _her magic should have died with her_.

Turning her attention to Merlin, she studied his face. He looked fairly peaceful, only a slight hint of worry on his face. Morgana remembered a time when she called him a friend, when he helped her with her magic, when he kept her secret safe from Uther. He had brought her flowers once.

She shoved the dangerous memories to the back of her mind, bringing up a new one in their place. Of feeling her throat constrict and burn, of choking, her vision clouding, but not enough to block out her view of Merlin watching her, watching as he poisoned her.

Her expression turned foul and she kicked him hard in the side.

"That's for Morgause," she said out loud.

His eyelids fluttered slightly, yet they remained closed.

_Now, what to do with you?_

She thought for a moment, then smiled wickedly. She raised a hand over the two bodies and began to weave a spell.

* * *

Arthur paced the court room worriedly. They had frantically searched for Merlin and Ayra for hours, but to no avail. As soon as they had returned to Camelot, he had sent out his knights on a search party and was anxiously waiting their return. He rounded a pillar, his fingers drumming a quick rhythm on his sword hilt. _Where are they?_ he thought. It was now dark; the knights had headed out hours ago. He had ordered them to scour the Darkling Woods and the immediate area around it. He knew that this would take time, but he couldn't help but feel worried that they weren't back yet.

He was anxious for his friend, worried the knights may not be able to find him. He was concerned for Ayra too of course – he didn't want any harm coming to any of his subjects – but Merlin was his greatest friend, despite what he might say to others, they had known each other for years and had grown very close. Heck, Merlin was his _brother,_ no matter what people might say about the relationship between a servant and master.

He stopped pacing and took out Merlin's neckerchief. It looked odd in his hand and not around his friends neck. He stared at it as though it could tell him where his manservant was. It could not of course. It was just a piece of fabric.

He heard the doors open and someone enter. Looking up, he saw it was Gwen. She moved to his side and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"They'll be fine," she said softly. "You know Merlin, always getting out of tricky situations."

This was true of course. Somehow, no matter how bad the circumstances, Merlin would always emerge with no more than a scratch on his body. Arthur had gotten used to this, even taken it for granted. But not this time. All the promises that he would return safely fell dead on his ears. Nothing could convince him that his friend would be safe.

"Arthur," Gwen said.

He turned his head towards hers.

"You know he will be alright," she said, bringing up her hand to stroke his cheek.

He didn't answer her. Instead he leaned down and brought his lips to hers. They stood for a moment, locked in their embrace, then broke apart. She smiled up at him, her hand still on his cheek. She opened her mouth to speak, but then the doors opened and Gwaine drifted meekly in. The king and queen turned to their friend, eager for news. Gwaine stood still for a moment, opening his mouth as though about to say something, but nothing came out.

Something was wrong. The brief comfort Gwen had given him was gone, and Arthur was once again scared for Merlin. As Gwaine didn't seem to want to speak first, Arthur did for him.

"Did you find them?" he asked urgently.

Gwaine gave a pained nod.

"We found Merlin," he said in a hollow voice.

"What's wrong?"

He didn't have to wait long for an answer. At that very moment, Leon came in through the doors, quickly followed by Percival and Elyan, who were carrying a body. Arthur's blood froze in his veins. Gwen gasped and clutched at his arm for support. He stared, stock still, at the body they were placing on the table. He took a few shaky steps forwards and looked down upon Merlin. The man's head lolled backwards, showing no signs of life, a small hint of dried blood on his cheek. He tried for a pulse, but there was none. Merlin was dead. A choked noise escaped his throat.

"What happened?" he asked.

Leon shook his head.

"We found him like this, sire," he said. "There was nothing we could do."

Arthur forced himself to stay together. He couldn't break down, not in front of his knights.

"Leave me," he said to them.

They all bowed and moved silently from the room. Gwen wiped the tears from her eyes and followed them, allowing herself one last glance at her friend's body before running from the scene. The doors closed behind her. Arthur was alone. Then he let go.

* * *

Arthur felt numb. It wasn't true. It couldn't be true. Merlin couldn't die. But there was the body, there was the proof. He was dead. How could he be dead? It wasn't right; it was so, _so_ wrong. Merlin, his brother … gone.

He clutched the neckerchief in his hand, he hadn't let go of it since they'd brought in the body, clinging to it as though for dear life.

Nothing else mattered, only that Merlin was dead. Everything else seemed petty and unimportant in comparison. The world had dimmed for Arthur, he could see nothing but Merlin, and he could hear nothing but the silence from him. He had an irrational fear that if he looked away from him for one second, he would disappear forever.

He dug his nails into his palm so hard that spots of blood started appearing on his skin. He hoped the pain would help him hold on to reality. He had to hold on.

People came to him, said things that were meaningless to him. He didn't recognise voices and didn't look at their faces. They were irrelevant. They did not matter. Only Merlin did.

He had never told him just how much he meant to him. He never told him how much he cared. And he did care. He cared so much it felt as though he would bleed to death with the pain of it.

He wanted to run, he wanted to keep running and never look back. He wanted out. He didn't want to go through this any more.

But he couldn't escape, he was stuck in reality. A terrible reality. It was like the sun had been snuffed out. There was only the darkness, and the body. The oh so still body.

* * *

In the evening of the same day, Gwen stood by the window in her chambers, looking down on the courtyard. She couldn't believe it. Merlin couldn't be dead. She had seen his body, knew he didn't have a heartbeat, but it just wouldn't process in her mind. She kept expecting him to walk in through the door and give her one of his goofy smiles. Merlin. Dead.

They were still searching for Ayra. She had been nowhere to be found. Gwen tried to take this as a good sign, that she could still possibly be alive somewhere, but she knew the chances were slim. She just didn't want to loose anyone else.

Merlin and Ayra were gone, and now even Arthur was slipping away from her. He had said very little since the knights had brought back the body. All he did was sit in a chair and stare at the floor. Gwen looked at him from across the room. He was sitting hunched by the table, staring at the neckerchief in his hands, his eyes unfocused and unwavering. He had taken Merlin's death hard, and she couldn't blame him for it.

She knew what Merlin was to Arthur, and she knew what it was like to lose people you loved. Her father had been killed by Uther, and when Morgana betrayed them all it was like losing a sister. But it was different with Merlin. She couldn't explain how, it just was.

The next day Gwen would travel to Ealdor with a few of the knights to break the news to Hunith, Merlin's mother, and bring her back for the funeral. She didn't think Arthur would be up for the journey.

They were preparing the body for cremation the next day at sunset. Gwen hadn't been able to bring herself to go see him. The body down in the small chamber off the throne room just wasn't Merlin. The dead man lying so still couldn't be him; he would never leave without telling them. He would never die on them.

She shook herself and told herself clearly that he was dead, and she would never see him again. Only she still didn't believe it. Something inside her told her something was wrong. The scenario wasn't fitting together. How could he be dead? There was a seed of doubt in her mind, and it was growing. Soon it would blossom, leaving her with no doubt in her mind at all. Could there be a small chance that he was really alive?

* * *

_Please, please review, comment, or show support through any other means possible. It would really make my day!_


	3. Chapter 3

_I'm on a roll tonight! Chapter three and I've only been uploading for about half an hour! Anyone want to hazard a guess at how much I'll do tonight?_

_Oh, I don't own Merlin, yada yada._

* * *

Morgana looked at the lifeless body of Merlin, who she had strung up on a rope by his wrists. The sight reminded her of when she had captured him and used a Fomorrar to force him to kill Arthur, but today she had a different goal in mind. Merlin knew who Emrys was and she was going to use any means possible to get this information from him.

It was late evening; the light had already faded, so she had lit a few candles to see. Not that she needed candles to see in the dark. Merlin had been unconscious all day, she had let him sleep, giving him a little time before all hell began. She was merciful in that way.

Morgana had taken him straight to her hovel, intending to torture him if necessary on the whereabouts of Emrys, but she had left the girl's body where it lay. She had been worried about Arthur coming to look for his manservant, the two were strangely loyal to each other, and he would no doubt search for his missing friend. She had only needed to think about this problem for a few moments before she had come up with a solution. She had enchanted the girl's body so it resembled Merlin's in every way, right down to his clothes. It was odd looking at the two Merlin's, one unconscious, a slight frown on his face, the other dead, with wide, staring eyes.

As she watched, Merlin gave a cough and groaned. He jerked his head up and slowly opened his eyes. They widened as soon as he recognised where he was. He glanced around, looking for his captor. Morgana had hidden herself in the corner of her home, where the light did not reach. In the bright candlelight, Merlin would not be able to see her, while from the shadows she could observe him perfectly.

She watched him peer into each of the corners of the room, then finally deciding he was alone, he started to examine his bonds. He struggled with them for a few moments, before checking to see if he was really alone again.

Just as he was about to attempt to untie his hands again, Morgana stepped out from the shadows. Merlin jumped back from her in shock, or he would have, if his wrists weren't bound to the ceiling. In any case, he tried to leap backwards, but was dragged back by his hands, the chains digging into his wrists. He gasped in pain, and Morgana leered at him.

"Don't waste your energy, Merlin," she said, in a falsely sweet voice. "You're not going anywhere fast."

She wandered closer to him, looking at him like he was her prey. She stopped in front of him and met his steely gaze.

"I believe you have a secret," she said, and waited for a reply.

"What makes you think that?" he replied, all the warmth he had once showed her gone from his voice.

"Who is Emrys?"

Unlike the first time she had mentioned the name, he did not react to it; he merely continued to stare her down.

"Why should I tell you?" he asked.

_At least he isn't denying that he knows_, thought Morgana.

"Why shouldn't you?" she replied. "You are loyal to Arthur, yet he hates magic. He fails to see any good within it."

"Well, it's rather hard to see good in it with you using it only for evil," he spat bitterly.

Morgana slapped him sharply.

"I have only ever tried to bring magic back to this land, and to take what is rightfully mine!" she shouted.

Merlin glowered from behind the red welt forming on his cheek.

"The throne of Camelot is not rightfully yours," he said. "It belongs to Arthur. How can you possibly expect anyone to ever see magic as a force for good if you keep using it like this?"

Morgana felt the fury build up inside her. How dare he talk to her like that? What did he know of her reasons for using magic?

"You know nothing of magic!" she spat at him. "Don't pretend you do!"

They fell silent for a moment, Morgana seething, Merlin trying desperately to stay calm.

"Where's Ayra?" he asked.

"The little girl?" Morgana said, mockingly. "Dead. Foolish thing. I would have spared her, but no, she preferred to die in a fruitless attempt to save you."

She saw the horrified look in the servant's eyes as he realised that her words were true.

"But Merlin, are you honestly that special? Did you really deserve to have her die for you?"

She saw in his eyes that he was blaming himself for her death. That was one thing Morgana had learnt over the years; never blame yourself for other peoples foolishness.

She turned her back to him and walked slowly towards the small table on the other side of the room. When she turned to face him again, she was holding a small knife blade in her hand. She walked back towards him.

"Do you see this?" she asked, holding it up to the light.

The knife flashed ominously, the silver blade shining in the candlelight. It had a wickedly sharp, curved edge, which seemed almost too eager to penetrate flesh.

"This is a very special blade, one of the few forged by the high priestesses of the Old Religion. It carries a deadly enchantment, allowing it to inflict its victims with much more than just physical pain."

She paused here to press the flat of the blade to the bare skin of Merlin's forearm.

"The smallest cut from this knife and you will feel the most unimaginable pain. And slowly, very slowly, as the Blade is used against you more, it will eat away at your soul. Eventually you will be left as an empty shell, your heart still beating, your mind still working, but, at the same time, nothing. At this point you will only be too happy to answer my questions," she paused, letting the information sink in.

"So Merlin, shall we begin?"

She turned the Blade in her hand and held the very tip of the knife to his skin and waited.

"Anything you want to say?" she asked him.

He looked back at her, daring her to do it.

"Pity," she said, and then she pierced his skin with the knife.

He screamed and thrashed wildly about. She had to grab his arm to make sure the knife stayed firmly in place. After a few seconds she pulled it out and stood back to admire her work. Merlin slumped in his upright position, now hanging only from his wrists. He hung his head, his eyes firmly shut, but Morgana could still see the tears making their way down his face. It was only a small cut, she had barely nicked his skin, but it had been enough to make him scream.

She wondered what the pain felt like, she had never been touched with the Blade, so she had no idea what Merlin was experiencing. All she knew was that it would be hell for him. Very soon he would wish he was dead.

She watched as his body shook and trembled, he was having trouble containing his moans, or even raising his head she realised. Placing her hand underneath his chin, she lifted his face to hers. He opened his eyes and looked at her.

"Is that all you've got?" he asked weakly.

She grinned devilishly.

"Oh no, I've got plenty more," she said, raising the Blade once more.

Merlin squeezed his eyes shut and prepared for the pain.

* * *

Merlin opened his eyes. It was dawn; at least he thought it was. He could hear a few birds singing, what could be the dawn chorus. Every part of him ached, he felt weak and his arms burned from where Morgana had cut him. She had tortured him for most of the night, only relenting in the small hours of the morning. He hadn't got much sleep, only exhaustion had allowed him to fall into unconsciousness. He looked at his arms, crusted in dry blood, and although they were only small cuts, there was an awful amount of it. Perhaps he would die of blood loss when she next tortured him. That would be better than being touched by that dreadful knife for much longer.

He looked across to the small bed where Morgana slept, and all thoughts of bleeding to death disappeared from his mind. She was awake and sitting up on the bed, apparently she had been waiting for him to wake up.

"Good morning, Merlin," she said, rising to her feet.

"Doubt it," he muttered hoarsely.

She picked up a wooden bowl and spoon from the edge of the bed and crossed to where he was standing, his wrists still shackled to the ceiling. Only when she was a few feet from him could he see what was in the bowl. It looked like a thick grey paste, lumpy and unappetizing. Gruel. She picked up a spoonful and held it a few inches from his face.

"Breakfast," she announced.

Merlin was confused. She was feeding him? Why? She answered his unasked question almost immediately.

"Can't have you dying of hunger now can we?" she said, smirking.

When he said nothing and kept his mouth firmly closed she sighed and said, "Come Merlin, you must be starving."

It was true; he hadn't eaten for almost twenty four hours. Tentatively, he opened his mouth. Morgana gently placed the spoon in his mouth and he forced himself to chew and swallow the gruel. It didn't taste of much, and almost reminded him of what he used to eat in Ealdor. This continued for a few minutes, the sorceress spoon-feeding her enemy, until the bowl was empty. She stood back and placed the bowl upon the table.

"I'm thirsty," Merlin said, after a few moments.

Without a word she picked up a water flask and held it to his lips. The water ran over his tongue and down his throat. A few drops trickled out of the side of his mouth. It felt good, he hadn't realised just how dry his throat was. When he had quenched his thirst, Morgana put the flask down and brought out her knife once more.

"Are you ready, Merlin?" she asked.

"Would it make a difference if I said no?" he retaliated.

"I doubt it," she said, and pressed the Blade to his skin once more.

This time she dug the knife deeper into his flesh, and she made a long cut next to all the smaller nicks she had inflicted the day before. Merlin tried not to call out, but his will failed him as she pressed the Blade even deeper.

It was like no pain he had ever felt before. He had sustained many injuries over his years in Camelot, but none could compare to this. The pain wasn't just contained within his arm, it spread throughout his whole body, making him feel like his bones had turned to ice and his blood was on fire. He bit down hard on his tongue, blood blossoming in his mouth. His legs gave out and he hung from just his wrists. He tried to put as much distance between himself and the blade as possible, but he could feel the cool grasp of Morgana's hand on his arm, keeping it in place. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out any physical pain, but this was more than just physical. This was mental, this was spiritual. He could feel himself loosing his grasp on who he was, what he was. The pain blocked out any other thoughts, consuming his mind. There was only the pain.

Every now and again, Morgana would pull the knife out of his arm and ask him "Who is Emrys?" to which he would answer with an empty silence.

After what seemed eternity, he could no longer feel the sharp tang of the metal blade against his flesh. He opened his eyes and saw Morgana watching him, not saying anything. She had a curious expression on her face, and he couldn't quite decide what it was. But anyway, she seemed content to leave him be for a while. She moved behind him to do something. He couldn't see what it was, and when he tried to turn around he found himself restricted by his bonds.

Instead, he tried to gather his thoughts; at least he did when his thoughts came back to him. For a while all he could do was hang from his wrists and stare at the floor, unable to think about anything. Was this what it was like to lose your mind? After several long minutes, or possibly several long hours, he managed to form a coherent thought in his mind.

Ayra. She was dead because of him. Sweet, friendly Ayra. She hadn't deserved to die, not for him. If he had only acted quicker he might have been able to save her. The spell had been intended for him, and he knew Morgana wasn't out to kill him. Well, she wasn't just so long as she didn't know he was Emrys. If she had just stayed out of it she could still be alive.

He had never truly accepted the fact of just how many people died around him. Perhaps they would be better off without him. Perhaps Camelot didn't need him any more. Arthur was king; perhaps his destiny had already been completed. Maybe he was meant to die here at the hand of Morgana. Which brought him to another point. Why did Morgana want to kill him? Why was she so afraid of Emrys? He could see it in her eyes, she was afraid of the name; no matter how hard she tried to hide it.

"Why do you want to kill Emrys?" he asked out loud.

Silence.

"I know you do. But why?" he asked again.

"Why do you need to know?" came Morgana's voice from just outside of his view.

"You're torturing me on who he is and his whereabouts, don't I get a right to know what you want from him?" he said, turning his head to see her.

She was leaning against the wall, studying his face intently.

"No," she said simply. "But if you like, you can still tell me who he is."

She stepped away from the wall and came around to stand in front of him once more.

"Or, if you prefer, we can continue where we left off," she picked up her knife once more.

"You know I'm never going to tell you," he said, somehow managing to sound braver than he felt.

"Very well then," and she dug the Blade into his cheek.

* * *

_Hey, guess what? You can't kill me any more! I didn't kill him!_

_Please review so you can criticise my work all you want. (Although compliments are lovely too!)_


	4. Chapter 4

_My my, I am going quick tonight. So, anyway, the first idea that got this story going wsa what would happen if Merlin were to die? Obviously by this point he's not actually dead, I didn't have the heart to kill him off, but we wondered what other peoples reactions would be. Merlin's had loads of close-to-death experiences over the years but has never once actually died, again obvious. There was that five second thing in "The Poisoned Chalice" but we found that was hardly enough to quell my interest. What I particularly wanted to know was what Arthur's reaction would be. I hope I've done it justice._

_The pacing is probably a bit quick in this story, but bear with me, this is my first fanfic. Hopefully it will slow out later ... hopefully._

_I don't own Merlin, etc._

* * *

Gwen had a fine horse. It had been going at a fast trot since dawn, occasionally breaking into a canter. She was riding with just a few of the knights; Elyan, Gwaine and Percival. As she had expected, Arthur had stayed behind. He hadn't said a word to her before she left, so she had just held him tight and promised that she would be back soon.

It had taken less than a day to reach Ealdor, they had been slowed by the snow of course; it had been falling heavily ever since Merlin's body had been brought back to Camelot, but they had made good time. They would be back before the funeral.

As they rode over the crest of the hill, they finally saw their destination, Ealdor, the village where Merlin had grown up. They slowed their horses to a walk as they entered the village and people stared as they recognised the queen of Camelot, wondering what they could be doing there. Gwen led the way to Hunith's home, and dismounted as they reached the small hut. She could see Hunith inside, going about her daily business. Her nose and cheeks were red from the cold, her breath exiting her lungs in small dragon breaths. As the horses came to a stop she looked up. Her face broke into a smile when she saw Gwen; they had grown quite close in the few months she had been banished from Camelot. Unfortunately, Gwen could not return her smile and as soon as Hunith exited her home to greet them, she immediately sensed something was wrong. She saw the distraught faces of the four from Camelot and seemed to be preparing herself for the worst.

Gwen hated what she was about to do. Why did she have to be the one to tell Hunith that Merlin was dead? But someone had to do it, and they had all agreed it was better if a friend broke the news and not a complete stranger.

She opened her mouth to speak, and tried to break the news as softly as she could. It still wasn't enough of course. How do you tell someone their only son is dead? No woman should have to bury their child.

As the words finally left her lips, she saw Hunith turn stark white. She saw her legs give way and she fell to the ground. She watched her being caught by Percival, and saw the look in her eyes, desperate for her queen's words to be a lie, but she knew they weren't. She saw the woman before her crumble, tears leaking from her eyes, agonised cries escaping her lips. And she found that she had no words of comfort for her.

* * *

"Merlin …"

Arthur was at a loss for words. His friend lay on the table before him, deathly pale, with no trace of blood in his face.

This was Arthur's goodbye. This was where he would let go. If he didn't say it now he would never get a chance. The body would be burnt in less than an hour. He needed to stay strong, he was the king of Camelot; he couldn't be seen breaking down over the death of a servant, no matter how close they had been to him.

But this still wasn't Merlin. This was just a body. This was not his friend.

The man lying on the table looked so peaceful, like he could be sleeping if it weren't for the lack of breath in his throat and pulse in his neck.

"Merlin. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you, and … I'm sorry I never gave you enough credit for all that you've done. You are the bravest person I know. Between and during battles. You also happen to be the worst servant in all the five kingdoms. You're rude and idiotic and you _never_ knock! But you're also a good friend. Probably the greatest friend I've ever had. You've been of great council to me over the last few years, and I should have listened to you more often. Somehow you always turned out to be right. And despite sometimes seeming to be nothing more than a clueless, bumbling … _clotpole_, you're also very wise. In Camelot's darkest hours you would always be the voice of reason, the one giving us hope, guiding us through the dark. I don't know what we're going to do without you. I … I hope you can forgive me for all the wrongs I've done you. And I promise that I will make sure you are remembered."

Arthur paused, trying to think what else he should say, but he couldn't think. Merlin was dead, and that was all that mattered. So instead he leaned forwards and tied the neckerchief around his neck. Standing back, he noted that he was looking a little more like his old self.

"Goodbye, Merlin."

And with that he turned around and left the room.

* * *

Merlin wondered what was happening in Camelot. Was Arthur looking for him? Of course he would be; Arthur wouldn't just leave him in Morgana's clutches. But would he be able to find him here? She certainly wouldn't choose to live somewhere that could be found easily.

He would have escaped long ago, used his magic to free himself from his chains, but Morgana had always been awake and most likely watching him, so he couldn't risk it. And now he wasn't even sure he would be able to do it, even if she wasn't there. The blade had drained him in more ways than one.

Helpless, he stared at the fire she had lit to warm the evening up. He could not feel its heat at all. He glanced up to see Morgana lying on her bed. It had been over an hour since she had fallen asleep, he had waited that long just to be sure. She slept eerily quietly, making almost no sound, she didn't toss and turn as she might once have when she had nightmares, she was as still as the dead.

He turned back to the fire and whispered under his breath, "_Forbaernan firgenholt_."

Nothing happened.

He moaned in frustration and desperation. The Blade had completely drained him of his magic. He couldn't use it.

* * *

Ayra could hear voices.

That was odd. She was dead, wasn't she?

She was pretty sure she was. She had jumped in front of Merlin and taken Morgana's spell. Then she just seemed to stop existing. So, in theory, she shouldn't be able to hear voices.

Maybe this was heaven. She tried to open her eyes to see, but found she couldn't. She did have eyes, right? She tried to move her arm, but found she couldn't even feel it.

Okay, so she was completely paralysed and might not even have a body, but she could hear, that was good. And the voices were processing in her mind so that meant she still had a mind, even better.

Perhaps she had survived Morgana's attack after all, or maybe she had been reincarnated or something. That would be interesting.

She tried to move again, but to no avail. So instead she concentrated on the one thing she could do. Listen.

"He was a brave man," said a voice. "Braver than any of us gave him credit for."

She knew that voice. It was Arthur! Perhaps he could help her.

"Why did it have to be him?"

That was Gwen's voice! But what were they talking about? They sounded like someone had died. Wait … she had died. But she wasn't a man! What was going on? Where they about to bury her or something?

"Shall we get on with it then?"

That was one of the knights. Gwaine?

She felt the heat of a torch pass close by her face and started to panic. They were about to cremate her! _No! I'm still conscious in here!_ she mentally screamed.

With all her might, she desperately tried to move, tried to send out a signal. Don't burn me! But she was completely paralyzed and couldn't even twitch a muscle.

* * *

Since the day she was born, Ayra had magic. She wasn't the most powerful of sorcerers, but she was certainly dangerous. She was completely incapable of controlling her powers, a trait that seemed unique among her kind.

Her parents – worried about their daughter, and scared of her sudden magical outbursts – had taken her at a young age to a powerful sorcerer, who had agreed to help them. Upon failing to teach her to control her powers, he cast an enchantment on her, chaining her magic, keeping it within her body so she would be unable to use it.

He had done his job too well. For years she lived like this, her magic bound within her, completely unaware of her powers.

Being unable to escape, her magic built up inside her, winding its way into every single fibre of her body, weaving itself into her very soul. Essentially, she had become magic. Yet it still could not escape her.

And even when she died, the enchantment still partially worked, her magic stayed within her body, but it was now free. Had she been alive she would have been able to use it. But because of the years of encasement, it had bound itself to her soul. So when the magic stayed in her body, her soul stayed too.

It was for this reason that Ayra still had a conscious thought as she lay upon the pyre. Her body was dead, yet her soul was very much alive. And so was her magic.

Her magic had always acted as though it had a mind of her own, never doing as she wanted, never doing well. But for once, just this once, it would.

* * *

_Again, I _need _feedback! How is this story going? Stand by, you'll probably get an update in the next ten minutes!_


	5. Chapter 5

_Here's the next chapter._

_I don't own Merlin. Do I have to write this every chapter?_

* * *

Hunith couldn't look anywhere but at the body laid out on top of the pyre in the courtyard. Her son … he was so young. And now he was gone, soon the fire would take him from her forever.

She stood tall, with as much dignity as she could muster, staring dry eyed at her him. She had no more tears left.

The sun was sinking in the sky, setting the snow alive with sparkles. She shivered from the cold. Why was it so cold?

People had scoffed when they heard of the send off he was getting. Why was a lowly servant getting a funeral worthy of a great lord? Hunith had barely heard these spiteful comments. Her son was gone, and that was all that mattered. Merlin deserved a funeral fit for the greatest of all kings. The whole kingdom should be in mourning for him.

She could hear people talking, but nothing registered to her, she could only stare at her dead sons face. The first thing she properly heard was when one of the knights, Gwaine, picked up a torch and said, "Shall we get on with it then?"

He held the torch to the pyre and the flames jumped eagerly onto the pile of wood. She watched as they greedily crept their way up to Merlin's body. As she looked on, she felt Gwen put an arm around her shoulders.

Suddenly, noise erupted in her mind. A single voice filled her head, a young woman's voice.

_No!_ it cried. _No, please! Don't burn me!_

Hunith gasped out loud and felt her knees give way. Arthur caught her, but she struggled out of his grip.

"Did you hear that?" she asked frantically, whipping her head back and forth, looking for the one who shouted.

Gwen and Arthur looked confused.

"Hear what?" Gwen asked.

"That voice …"

They both looked worried now, and she couldn't blame them. She was hearing voices at her son's funeral, perhaps her grief was driving her mad.

But then she heard the voice again.

_Please!_ it screamed. _I'm still in here! Don't burn me!_

This time Gwen and Arthur both gasped as well. They held their hands to their heads and stared wildly around for the source of the voice. But Hunith thought she already knew where it was coming from.

"Merlin …" she said softly.

The edges of her son's body were starting to blur. She stared at him in shock. It was almost as though he was fading away, his body turning into wisps of smoke. She wasn't the only one who noticed. There were more gasps and some startled shouts from the courtyard.

And then the first of the flames licked her son's body.

The voice in their heads gave an almighty scream and every single person gathered around the pyre fell to the ground.

"What was that?!" one of the knights shouted.

Suddenly the blazing fire was extinguished, as though a giant had just bent down and blown it out. They all stared at Merlin, his body turning to silvery smoke before their eyes, his features disappearing. Once his body was no longer distinguishable as human, the smoke started to reform. But it wasn't Merlin it turned into. Instead it took on the form of a young woman, barely twenty. Hunith stared incredulously. Who was this? What had happened to her son? What was going on?

All was silent for a few moments, before Gwen breathed, "Ayra?"

Hunith didn't understand. Where was Merlin?

The voice in their heads, Ayra she supposed, spoke again.

_Gwen? Gwen, is that you? Can you hear me?_ she said.

"Ayra? Yes, yes, I can hear you," she replied shakily. "What's happening?"

_I … I don't know. I think I'm dead. It was Morgana, she … she sent a spell at Merlin and I jumped in the way. I'm dead, aren't I?_

"I … maybe," Gwen whispered, tears forming in her eyes.

_Will you tell my parents what happened?_

"Of course."

_Is Merlin there?_

No one spoke.

_Gwen? Is he?_

"No," said Arthur eventually. "We didn't find him."

_I think Morgana wants him alive. She was asking him who Emrys was. Do you know who Emrys is?_

"No, I don't."

Ayra was silent for a few moments, and then she said quietly, _I never thought it would end this way..._

All the murmured whisperings around the pyre faded away, everyone listening to the young girl's last words.

_I always thought that if I died an early death, I would want to die in the place of a friend. And that's how I went. But I … I … Gwen?_

"Yes?" she said, taking a few steps forward to the pyre.

_I'm scared! I don't want to die!_

"Oh, Ayra!" she cried. "It will be alright, it will be alright …"

_I'm sorry. I'm being silly, I'm already dead. It's just … unfair._

"Yes, it is. Life's unfair."

She was barely holding back the tears now, trying not to let them show in her voice. She was trying to stay strong for the girl on the pyre.

_And so is death, _she agreed._ I think I'm going to go now. I can't hear you so well, I think I'm leaving._

Her voice sounded fainter now, as though from a distance away.

"Ayra!" Gwen called.

_Goodbye Gwen, _came the voice one last time.

There was silence. It took a while for it to sink in.

Ayra was dead. And Merlin … Merlin could still be alive. Merlin was alive!

* * *

It had been two weeks since the ride in the forest. Not a day had passed when Arthur wasn't out searching for Merlin since they had discovered he was still alive. He had scoured all of Camelot, but to no avail. Merlin wasn't anywhere to be found, and neither was Morgana. Arthur supposed it had been she who had enchanted Ayra's body to look like Merlin's so they wouldn't go looking for him.

He was still slightly confused as to why she wanted him and only after a long conversation with Gaius did he understand slightly.

"Who is Emrys?" he asked the physician.

After a lengthy pause, in which Gaius seemed to be wresting himself to do or not do something he answered.

"Emrys is a powerful sorcerer," replied the old man. "Apparently Morgana thinks he is dangerous to her."

"So you know who he is?"

He nodded.

"You know him sire."

"I do? Who is he?"

Gaius paused for a second, then said, "He sometimes goes by the name of Dragoon."

Arthur was surprised.

"The sorcerer who tried to heal my father?"

Gaius nodded.

Arthur thought for a moment, considering this information. So Morgana wanted this Emrys dead. Just another reason to believe that he might actually be good. He was still slightly reluctant to believe this fact, wanting to blame _someone_ for his father's death.

Emrys could wait though, Merlin needed his help.

* * *

Merlin was hanging from his wrists once more. Morgana was pressing the Blade into his side. Having riddled his arms and shoulders with wounds, she was now working her way along the rest of his body. She held it in between his ribs, deep enough to cause tremendous pain, but shallow enough to keep him alive.

He had stopped struggling. He just hung by his wrists and kept his eyes closed while he felt the life drain out of him. And although he no longer tried to resist, it didn't mean he wouldn't cry out anymore.

Thankfully, these days Morgana didn't torture him so much. Some days she might even let him be. And sometimes she would disappear completely and leave him alone. She wasn't afraid that he might escape, it was virtually impossible in his state.

It had been days since she had last taken out the Blade. At least he thought it had been. It was hard to keep track of time in the dark hovel. He could no longer tell how long he had been there. A week? Two? It didn't matter anymore. It was as though he had always been there. There was nothing but him, Morgana and the Blade. There had never been anything else.

He was starting to loose his grip on reality, he could no longer remember what was real and what was his imagination. Was he really Emrys? How could he be if he couldn't escape from Morgana? And what about Arthur? Was he coming? He wasn't coming. He would have come by now. He wasn't going to come.

As he felt the Blade leave his body once more, he forced his eyes open. He found Morgana's pale green ones and looked into them. They were empty; he couldn't see anything in them.

She had changed over the while he had been there. She didn't show her anger openly any more. She talked less, and sometimes just stared at him. Sometimes he just stared at her. She was different, there was no denying it. Not different as in she might show some redemption any time soon, but there had been some change in her, and there had been some change in Merlin too.

He no longer felt the pain the Blade inflicted on him, at least, he didn't feel it so strongly. What he did feel was the life draining out of him. This was almost worse than the pain. He wondered how long it would take for him to die. Death couldn't be far off now, could it?

While his life, his memories and his soul were leaving him, one thing was returning. His magic. As Morgana had used the Blade on him more he had built up a certain immunity to what it did to his magic. It had been growing stronger for some time now, but he hadn't dared to use it yet.

Merlin had desperately been trying to retain his memories but they just seemed so distant to him, as though they weren't really his. At the moment they were all that was keeping him sane, but soon they would be gone, and then he would be gone.

As he hung there, Morgana carefully slicing his side open, he closed his eyes and tried to remember the first time he ever met Arthur. He couldn't. He couldn't remember what had been said or what had happened. All he could remember was a pain in his side. No wait, that was Morgana.

He tried to remember his mother's face, but nothing came to mind. He tried to think of the last words his father had ever spoken to him, but he couldn't.

Morgana had told the truth, he was turning into an empty shell.

_No,_ said a voice in the back of his mind. _No. You are not going to lose yourself._

But he could feel himself going. This was it, he was fading. He was going.

_No,_ shouted the voice. _You cannot go!_

He closed his eyes, waiting for the end.

But it didn't come.

Instead, he felt something deep inside him. It started somewhere inside his bones, so slight he could barely feel it. Then it started to grow, reaching out to his muscles, eventually touching his skin. It was his magic. He had never felt it so strong before, or act without command. It rose from deep within him, rising to the surface, making his body tingle all over. He gasped, his eyes flying open. He could feel his irises burning. Morgana gasped as well and stepped back. His eyes were alight with golden fire. Suddenly his magic burst forth from him, expelling itself in all directions. Morgana was hurled backwards, her body crashing against the wall. The shockwave that had been created flew outwards from Merlin's body, smashing pots and sending tremors through the ground. The supports of the hovel groaned ominously, warning of collapse. A large crack appeared in the ceiling and his bonds broke. For the first time in days he had full use of his hands. Once the dust had settled, he could see Morgana's pale face looking at him through the broken remains of her home.

"You have magic," she said, her voice wavering.

He looked back at her, wondering how to react.

"I was born with it," he eventually replied with.

Her eyes widened and then realisation struck.

"You. It … it's you. You're Emrys."

"Yes," he agreed.

For a moment she seemed to be frozen, then she grabbed the blade and hurtled herself at him with a scream.

* * *

_She finally knows!_

_Again, please review._


	6. Chapter 6

_Here we are, chapter six. Thank you for all your lovely reviews! I was literally bouncing in my seat as I read them! Not much else to say, so just read on!_

* * *

Arthur and the knights were scouring Camelot again. It had been so long and they had found nothing, no clues, no hints, not even a whisper, and they had almost given up all hope of ever finding their friend. Not Arthur though. He was still as sure as he had ever been and even more determined. He felt it was his fault that Merlin had been captured and Ayra was dead, although no one else could see his reasoning.

They picked their way on foot through the dense undergrowth. They were a little further afield than the Darkling Woods, right on the border of Camelot. At least they thought they were still in Camelot, it was hard to tell. They hadn't searched here before, they knew that much.

They passed a large oak, distinguished by its twisted boughs, and found themselves on the edge of a small ridge, looking down on a door in the middle of a mound of earth. It seemed that someone was living there.

The knights looked at each other. Who else who be living in a place like this? Arthur gave them some silent hand-signals and they moved around the ridge to approach the door from either side. Arthur, Gwaine and Elyan went to the left, and Leon and Percival to the right.

Just as they were almost at the small flight of stone steps leading to the door, Arthur heard an almighty _boom_ from behind the door, not unlike the one he had heard two weeks previously. The ground shook, and they all struggled to stay upright.

They all looked at each other wide eyed and then rushed up the steps. Gwaine was the first to reach the door. He barged his shoulder against it and it flew off its hinges.

Arthur was next in the door and he froze at what he saw. Merlin was standing in the middle of the room, swaying slightly, looking like he was about to collapse. He saw a blur of movement, and suddenly Morgana was launching herself at his servant, screaming with a knife in her hand.

Arthur barely had time to think before her blade had lodged itself deep into Merlin's shoulder. He heard the crack of the bone and saw his eyes widen in shock, his mouth open in a scream. He saw Merlin collapse and then realised he was screaming himself.

Morgana turned to him, surprise written over her face, then she held up her hand and said a few words in a language he didn't understand, her eyes flashing gold. The last thing he saw before he was blasted backwards out of the hovel was the blood seeping from beneath Merlin's tunic.

* * *

Morgana stood looking at Merlin. He was lying on the ground, barely conscious. He was Emrys. _Merlin_ was Emrys.

She could hardly believe it. After all that time and he had never told her he had magic! Even when she had discovered her own magic, he never told her! He just kept lying!

A part of her wanted to hate him, and she did, but another part of her could see why he had done it. He was her doom, of course he wouldn't have told her. He was her doom …

How long had he known? And how could _Merlin_ be her doom?

He gave a raspy breath and opened his eyes to look at Morgana. He didn't do anything, he didn't say anything; he just looked at her.

She looked back at him, frozen to the spot, strangely scared by his cerulean eyes. How she had never recognised them?

After a while, Merlin croaked, "Are you going to kill me then?"

She didn't answer, instead walking over to him and bending down. She didn't know what made her do it, but she placed a hand on the point where she had stabbed him.

He just continued to stare at her.

She whispered a few words under her breath and watched his skin knit itself together again. She could feel his collar bone, the one she had broken, reform under his skin.

He looked surprised now, his eyes confused. Morgana was confused as well. Why did she do that? But something seemed to be telling her what to do now, controlling her movements. She helped raise Merlin into a sitting position and then into a standing position. He swayed slightly and leaned heavily on her for support. His magical outburst seemed to have weakened him greatly; she doubted if he could walk on his own. So instead, she pulled his arm over her shoulders and led him out of the hovel. Too weak to resist, he stepped over the bodies of Arthur and the knights, but not without looking down to see if they were alright. They were fine, only knocked unconscious by their fall. This didn't stop him looking worried still. He probably would have pulled out of her grip and gone to them if he could stand up on his own two feet. Instead he continued to lean on her, she guiding him out of the ravine.

"What are you doing?" Merlin asked, his voice cracking.

"Taking you away from here," she replied, her tone revealing nothing of her thoughts.

"Why?" he asked painfully. "Why not just kill me? You know who I am."

To this she said nothing. If truth be told, she didn't know why she didn't just run him through there and then. Why was she helping him walk? Why had she healed him? And _where_ was she taking him?

Of these questions going around in her mind, she could only answer the latter. Away from Arthur.

She didn't want him near Arthur because he would no doubt try to kill her to rescue him. And she could cause him more pain by making his servant disappear.

Merlin was her kin it seemed. She tried to tell herself that it wasn't true, but it was. They were the same.

After they had stumbled a fair distance from Arthur and the knights, Merlin's knees finally gave out and he collapsed to the ground, lying awkwardly on his front. Morgana looked around. They were in a small clearing, surrounded by knurled, old trees. It was getting dark; they should find a place to rest for the night. It would have to be well hidden, Arthur would be awake soon and looking for them. She left Merlin on the ground for a moment, who seemed to be fumbling with his tunic, and walked around the clearing.

There was one particular tree that had a large alcove underneath its roots, large enough for the two of them. The roots crisscrossed over the opening, leaving enough space to enter and exit, but also providing suitable shelter from the wind, and if she piled some snow against the opening, they might be completely hidden from view.

She walked back over to Merlin and crouched next to his head. His eyes were closed and he was oddly still. For a moment she thought he had died.

"Merlin," she said.

His eyes snapped open. She exhaled a sigh of relief and – wait … _relief?_ What was wrong with her?

Discarding her slightly disturbing emotions, she pulled his arm over her shoulder again and dragged him to the alcove beneath the roots. She helped him in and pushed him as far in as she could, his back against the roots of the tree. Once he was settled, she started scooping snow towards the opening, building a blockade of ice. She crawled into the alcove herself and used magic to get the last of the snow blocking them from the view of anyone or anything in the clearing, leaving slight gaps for air and light.

She couldn't see much of her blockade from this angle, but she was sure that while an animal wouldn't question it, a human would see that the snow should not have built up in that fashion. She prayed dusk would hide her attempts at camouflage.

She shifted herself in their hiding hole so she could see her prisoner, if that's what you would call him. He was breathing heavily, the effort of moving into the hole taking its toll on him. He clutched the front of his tunic, and that's when she noticed the dark stain making its way across the blue material. That was where she had cut him with the knife earlier.

She reached over and gently lifted his tunic up. Too weak to resist, he let her. It was rather bad actually. Perhaps she had pushed the Blade a little deeper than she had meant to. He was loosing a lot of blood, she had barely brushed his skin with her fingers and they had come away sticky and warm.

"You're loosing too much blood," she stated.

"Since when have you cared, Morgana?" he asked, his eyes glowing unnaturally in the semi-darkness.

"I don't. Perhaps I still want you alive for something. You are still of use to me Merlin," she taunted, although her heart was not really in it. "But not dead."

And with that she held her hand above his wound and uttered a healing spell. She then checked his arms and shoulders to see if there were any other bleeding wounds, or old ones that had reopened. She wouldn't have him bleeding out on her.

Once she was satisfied that he couldn't die even if he wanted to, she leaned back against the roots and surveyed him. He tried to ignore her, closing his eyes and feigning sleep. Eventually she asked, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you would have killed me?" he replied, his eyes still closed.

"I meant why didn't you tell me you had magic when I first discovered that I did?"

That earned her another glimpse of those cerulean depths.

"Because I had sworn not to tell anyone. I couldn't, if anyone had found out what I really was … And … I had been warned of what you might become. I was afraid. I saw you start to change, and then I knew that I could never tell you. I wanted to, I wanted someone else to talk to, but I couldn't."

He didn't look at her while he spoke.

They were silent for a while, Morgana processing his words. She wasn't sure if she believed him. For some reason her emotions were running high and she couldn't tell truth from lies.

After a few minutes she asked, "Who warned you of what I would become?"

"The Great Dragon," he replied.

She almost laughed at the thought of the scrawny servant standing before a dragon. Instead she just said, "I saw a dragon once."

His eyes flickered up to hers, a slight look of interest on his face.

"It saved me. It was only a baby, a pure white dragon."

"Aithusa," he said.

"What?"

"Aithusa, that's her name."

"How do you know?"

"I'm the one who hatched her. I gave her that name," he said steadily.

Morgana's eyes widened.

"But that would make you a –"

"Dragonlord. The last one."

His eyes burned deep into hers, making her feel slightly uncomfortable.

"Another thing you didn't tell me," she averted her gaze from his, staring instead at the knee of her dress, where her fingers had brushed, leaving a small red streak.

"You left before my father passed away, before he gave his gift to me. I didn't know while I knew you."

The tone in his voice made her look up.

"You still know me," she pointed out.

Merlin shook his head sadly.

"No I don't. The Morgana I know died a long time ago. You're not her," he accused, his eyes lighting up with passion. "I hardly know you at all."

Morgana felt angry. She was still the same person, wasn't she? Yes, she had changed, but she was still the same person, just not so deluded about her guardian's way of ruling.

Anger hurt at the moment, so she changed the subject.

"You've never told Arthur, have you?"

"No," he replied.

"Will you ever?"

"Maybe. I hope so. When the time is right, I hope I will be able to tell him some day. Maybe he will learn to accept me for who I really am."

His voice sounded so hopeful, the longing in it barely contained. But she could tell he had his doubts. He wanted Arthur to know, but he couldn't tell what his reaction would be.

She couldn't let Arthur know his manservant possessed magic. If he did find out and then came to terms with it, he would have all the might of Emrys at his side. She could not let this happen.

As she lay awake in their hole, trying to figure out just what she was intending to do with Merlin, she eventually heard him start to snore lightly. She whispered a few words and her eyes flashed gold. He stopped. She couldn't have them being given away by a bit of snoring.

Eventually she too fell asleep, her head resting against the snow wall she had built. She would worry about what came next in the morning.

* * *

_I'm guessing that Aithusa is a girl, otherwise Kilgarrah's hopes of saving his species are kind of shot._


	7. Chapter 7

_I'm going quick with this story aren't I?_

* * *

_Morgana kneeled in the dark room and shook in fear. She balled her hands into fists and planted them on her knees, trying to stop shaking. She lifted her head and looked at her surroundings. It was her old chamber in Camelot, but it seemed foreboding and ugly in the dark. There were no candles lit, and the sun had almost disappeared from the sky. She could only just see it through the window, peeking above the distant forest, slowly sinking beneath the horizon. She looked behind her and caught a glimpse of her reflection in a mirror._

_She was pale, even more so than usual, her hair sleek and shining, like it used to look when she lived here. Her eyes were large and fearful, her lips blood red. She was wearing her old green dress, the one with the jewelled neck line, but it was torn slightly at the shoulder._

_She turned back around and stared at her hands, quaking a little._

_"You are blind," a voice said from the shadows._

_Morgana's head snapped upwards. She couldn't see who it was, the shadows were too dark, but the voice was familiar._

_"You are blind to the world, Morgana."_

_Yes, that voice was so familiar, but she could not place it._

_"You are blind to yourself, to what you have become."_

_"Who – who's there?" she called out. "Show yourself!"_

_"You cannot see things as they really are; who and what people are to you."_

_"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice trembling with fear._

_"I mean that you are blind. You don't realise people for who they really are," and as they spoke, a woman stepped out from the corner of the room, the shadows slipping away from her face. "I can help you."_

_Morgana's heart leapt. Morgause! But no, this woman had a slightly differently shaped nose, her lips were fuller and her eyes a pale green. This was not her sister. She felt her heart drop. It seemed Morgause would not come back to her, even in her dreams._

_The blond haired woman took another step forwards and Morgana scrambled to her feet._

_"Who are you?" she demanded, straightening her back._

_She was taller than the woman, and she let that fact be known._

_"Someone who can help you see," she replied simply._

_Morgana just stared at the woman. She stood with a calm demeanour, her body relaxed, but her eyes were alight with fire. She didn't trust those eyes._

_"What's your name?" she asked._

_The woman didn't answer, only closed the gap between them and placed a hand on her shoulder. She flinched away from the cold touch, the slight pressure sending prickles through her arm. The woman turned her around on the spot so she was facing the mirror once more and said, "Look at yourself Morgana, look at what you have become."_

_And she did look. She saw herself in the mirror. And she didn't see the frightened woman she had seen but a minute before. She saw herself … and saw that her expression was clouded with hate, her beautiful features marred by vengeance. Her skin was stark white, her hair as dark as the night, piled on top of her head in an unruly mass. Her lips had lost all their colour and her eyes were dark and unforgiving, the irises burning with a pale green fire. The same fire she had seen in the woman's beside her._

_"No, no!"_

_Morgana fell to her knees, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes, making lights burst into being on the back of her eyelids._

_"If you wish for truth, turn to the one who helped you in your darkest hour."_

_As the woman's voice faded, she raised her head and looked around. She was gone, and the sun was finally disappearing beneath the horizon. As the glow faded from the sky outside, the room lost what little light had made its way in through the window. It was pitch black. Morgana couldn't see anything. She was blind._

* * *

"I'm sorry Morgana."

Merlin hesitated, wondering why he was even bothering.

"I … I'm sorry."

He breathed in through his nose deeply, then continued.

"I didn't want to poison you. I never did. How could I kill a friend? To tell the truth, I was glad when Morgause came in and bargained for your life, that way both you and the rest of Camelot would live. Because it was either you or the whole of Camelot. What was I supposed to do? If you'd been in my position I would have told you to poison me. Back then I probably would have died for you; I'd have died for any of my friends. I almost did on occasion.

"I'm sorry for what Morgause did to you. You're not who you used to be, you claim that you're trying to create a better world, but you're not. Better worlds aren't ruled by tyrants. That's what you are, a tyrant.

"I wish you weren't. I wish you were still the same person I met in Camelot all those years ago. You know, the first time I ever saw you, it was in your chambers, Gaius had asked me to deliver something to you and when I entered the room you had your back to me. You thought I was Gwen."

He smiled at the memory, inwardly laughing at his awful attempt to mimic Gwen's voice.

"You were a good person back then. One of the kindest souls I had ever met. But then your hatred of Uther took over and you were gone. I don't think I ever saw you again after the day you discovered you had magic. You were lost to me.

"Sometimes I just think about what could have happened if you hadn't left us. There were so many possibilities. You could have become such a great person. But instead you're this …"

He let his voice fade away. There was no point in continuing. It wasn't like the old Morgana could hear him. She was long gone.

Merlin laid his head back and tried to forget. He tried to forget there had even been another Morgana at all. It was too painful to think about what his friend had become.

* * *

Morgana woke to hands roughly dragging her out of the alcove under the roots. Her eyes flew open and she saw that her upper arms were grasped by Percival, whose normally gentle features had a look of cold anger on them. She recoiled and looked around.

The snow had melted while they slept. All of it, including the pile she had built in front of their hiding hole. She and Merlin had been in clear view of anyone who happened to be in the clearing. And Arthur and his knights were in the clearing. They all stood around her, save for Leon and Elyan who were removing a still sleeping Merlin from beneath the roots of the tree.

Panicked, she raised a hand and pointed it at Arthur.

"_Astrice!_" she shouted.

Nothing happened. Her magic had abandoned her.

_No!_ she thought, _not again!_

Fear clutched at her heart. They would surely kill her.

* * *

Arthur looked down upon the figure of his half-sister. She was kneeling on the ground in the freshly melted snow, her head bowed, shaking slightly. She showed no signs of the hate and vengeance she so openly wore last time they had met. In fact she looked scared. He couldn't recall the last time he had seen her scared.

He turned his attention to Merlin for a moment, who was just waking up. Leon and Elyan had laid him on the ground and were checking for any lasting damage, and Arthur was pleased to see his manservant sitting up, looking no worse for wear and in no pain. Apart from a few scratches on his face, he seemed unharmed. Even when Elyan pulled the neckline of his tunic down to reveal the spot where Morgana had stabbed him, the skin was unbroken, there wasn't even a mark. So she had healed him, that was something. But Elyan's attention had been caught by something else, and with the help of Leon, he pulled the tunic completely off an unwilling Merlin, revealing his bare torso. And a whole lot of wounds.

His arms and shoulders were riddled with small cuts like the ones on his face, hardly deep at all, Arthur couldn't see why Morgana would have even given him them, they wouldn't have caused much pain. There were more cuts around his midriff, these were deeper, more like the wounds you would inflict upon someone you were torturing.

So Morgana had tortured Merlin. Arthur's blood boiled at this, how dare she? How dare she cause his friend pain?

His thoughts were interrupted by Elyan, who had given a shout and come out of the small alcove they had found them in, carrying something in his hands. It looked like a knife of sorts, with a wickedly sharp blade.

"Look at this," he said, bringing it over.

Arthur and Gwaine went to have a look, but Percival stayed standing over Morgana, keeping an eye on her.

Elyan showed him the knife, the metal glinting in the early morning light.

"This is no ordinary metal," he said. "I've never seen it before. And … it feels wrong somehow. Just holding it, it feels wrong."

"Let me see," said Gwaine.

Elyan handed over the knife and as he did so the handle slipped from his grasp. The edge of the blade brushed against Gwaine's fingertip, opening up a small cut. The moment it did so he screamed, collapsing to the ground and writhing in pain.

They all jumped at his reaction, and Arthur bent down to pick up Gwaine's hand, examining the cut.

"Gwaine it barely nicked you," he said.

Gwaine shook his head; his eyes squeezed shut, and his forehead to the ground.

"Dear God," he said.

He looked up at Morgana.

"Did you stab Merlin with _that_?"

His repulsion known in his voice, staring in horror at the witch.

Arthur stared at the knife. It must contain some sort of magic, to cause such pain from just the smallest of cuts. He felt anger rising in his chest, choking him. So this was what she had tortured Merlin with. No wonder the cuts on his arms were so shallow, from the looks of things they still would have caused unimaginable pain. And the ones around his midriff …

For a moment Arthur's rage overtook him. He slapped Morgana sharply across the cheek. No one made any move to stop him. He picked up the knife by the handle, making sure not to touch the blade. He crouched down next to Morgana and held it up for her to see.

"Is this what you used on Merlin?" he asked, his voice low and threatening.

She didn't answer, just looked at him emptily. He forced his breath out through his nose and stood up, turning his back to her. He handed the knife back to Elyan and said, "Make sure not to touch the edge."

The dark-skinned knight nodded and took the offending blade. Arthur walked over to Merlin and crouched next to him.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

His manservant looked at him and nodded. He grabbed his tunic and pulled it back over his head, covering the marred skin. He didn't seem quite right, too quiet and solemn, but that was expected, he'd just been tortured for two weeks.

Arthur stood up and wordlessly offered him a hand in getting up. Merlin grasped it gratefully, pulling himself up off the ground. He gave his servant an encouraging smile, but he barely managed a twitch of the lips in return.

"It's alright, you're safe now," he said.

Merlin just nodded and looked away.

"Thanks for coming," he said.

Arthur looked back at his sister and said, "Morgana."

She looked up.

"You're under arrest."

* * *

_I wonder, can anyone guess who the mysterious woman is? She's a character from the original legand, but for some reason has never appeared in the show. But hey, who knows, she might appear in season five. They say they're introducing some new female characters._


	8. Chapter 8

_So this chapter is a little shorter than the others, but that's because the next scene is slightly longer than the rest of them, and I wanted to keep it separate._

_This chapter's going to be it for a while. Hopefully I'll have the next one up later today, if I don't get writer's block that is._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

Merlin was watching Morgana again. He silently cursed himself and looked away. _Damn it Merlin, stop looking at her like that_, he said to himself.

She was sitting on the back of Gwaine's horse, her hands tied together, having agreed to some quietly when she realised that she couldn't use her magic. Merlin felt bad about that. It was the second time he had used that spell on her. The first being when she had last taken over Camelot. He had done it this time so she couldn't hurt any of his friends when they found them. He had sensed it that night, Arthur and the knights were close and they were going to find them. Morgana would have no doubt put up a fight, possibly harming them. So he had used the spell that caused her to loose her powers temporarily.

He sat on the back of Arthur's horse, which was trotting next to Gwaine's. He was sneaking glances at her every now and again, to see her continue to look ahead, her expression completely unreadable. Once he caught her looking at him. Their eyes locked for a second, then they both looked away. She still hated him, he was sure of it, probably thinking up a way to kill him once her magic returned. She wouldn't want him in Camelot at Arthur's side. For her, it was a dangerous position for him to be in.

He thought back to his apology the night before. He hadn't planned on apologising; it was a spur of the moment thing. He'd just wanted a chance to talk to the old Morgana again, and when she was sleeping she almost looked like that person. Her features weren't hidden beneath a sneer or a frown, her beauty was plain to see, the beauty of the Lady Morgana.

He would apologise to his old friend, but not to the person she was now.

Every now and again, one of the knights would shoot him a glance, just to check if he was alright. If they saw him sneaking a look at Morgana, they would assume that he was frightened of her because of what he had been through. Merlin could tell they were worried about him, of course they were; he'd just been tortured for two weeks.

They had given him a short summary of all that had happened in Camelot since he'd been gone. How they had found Ayra's body in the woods, and thinking it was Merlin's, took her back to Camelot for the funeral. They told about Gwen going to Ealdor to tell Hunith, and about what had happened at the funeral. He stayed silent throughout their tale, and then told them about what had happened to him and Ayra in the woods. He fell quiet after that and refused to talk about what had happened with Morgana.

He couldn't talk about it, at least not at the current moment. Maybe it was because she was there listening, maybe because he didn't want anyone them to know just how bad the effects of the Blade – currently wrapped in cloth at the bottom of Elyan's saddlebag – were. But it was also because they wouldn't understand everything, certainly not the conversation they had had last night, or his apology.

They'd all assumed when he'd refused to say anymore that he had just been shocked by his experience, and he was happy to let them believe it. Of course he _had_ been shocked by the experience, but not frightened to death, and especially not frightened to death by Morgana.

He rubbed the point on his shoulder where she'd stabbed him the previous evening. It was still a little sore, she hadn't completely healed him; she had probably still been shocked at learning that he was Emrys and not in full control of her magic. Gwaine noticed his movement and looked at him concernedly. He stopped rubbing his shoulder.

* * *

They had stopped for the night; they would reach Camelot sometime the next day. They were all gathered around the camp fire they had made, Morgana, sitting near the flames, Leon not far from her, making sure she didn't escape. Merlin was sitting a little way from the main group, with a blanket around his shoulders that had been forced on him by Percival. Arthur was pacing, thinking about goodness knows what. So Gwaine was left with Elyan and Percival for company.

They were talking in low voices about what they thought had happened to Merlin.

"That … that knife is evil," Gwaine said.

"It felt wrong when I was holding it," Elyan said.

"That must be some enchantment on it," Percival shivered. "Let's see your finger, Gwaine."

He held up his hand, making the scratch visible. Percival let out a low whistle.

"And to think _that_ made you scream. Did you see the size of the cuts on Merlin? And she broke his collar bone with that thing …"

"No, it's more than that. When I felt it touch me, it was like … like it was touching my very soul, ripping it apart. If she's been using it on Merlin that long …" he paused, struggling to find words to describe what being touched with the knife was like.

"I'm surprised he's not dead," he finally finished.

"He must be much tougher than we thought," Elyan said what they were all thinking.

Gwaine felt ashamed for crying out so easily. The cut on his finger was barely bleeding, yet he had screamed like he'd had a spear in his side. He wondered if Merlin had cried like he had. He would have, wouldn't he? No one could withstand that much pain.

He looked over to where the manservant was sitting. He had said very little since they'd found him, but that was understandable, especially as he'd been tortured with Morgana's knife. He'd been glancing at her frequently, the other knights had put it down to his fear of her, but Gwaine knew better. He knew what fear looked like in the eyes of his friend, and that wasn't fear. He wasn't sure what it was but it was not fear. He felt slightly proud of Merlin, he had been through all that, and still wasn't afraid of her. He always knew he was strong, but he was impressed by this new show of bravery. Like Elyan had said, he was much tougher than any of them had thought.

* * *

_You know, there is an absolutely delightful blue button down there. If you could just click on it and leave a review you would make my day! Heck, you'd make my week!_


	9. Chapter 9

_Sorry, I lied. This chapter's going to be a bit shorter too. I just really had to leave it where I did, you'll see what I mean._

* * *

Arthur, Merlin and all the knights, save for Percival, who was on guard duty, were asleep. Morgana wasn't though. The eyes of the mysterious woman were haunting her. They were _her_ eyes, the very same pale green irises. She had stolen them. And she couldn't help but feel afraid of the woman. Great, the last thing she needed was another person to be afraid of.

She thought about what the woman had told her, that she was there to help her, and that she was blind, unable to see people for who they really were. And then she had showed Morgana who she really was. She had seen that she had been corrupted, by hate and by blindness.

But this was so wrong! She hadn't been corrupted; she had only been shown what the world was really like. The throne of Camelot rightfully belonged to her, why could no one see that? Arthur had stolen it from her! She had not been corrupted …

Or had she? Morgause had always told her that she wanted what was best for her; she was the one who had shown her the ugly truth in the world. The woman who had stolen her eyes couldn't be right, could she? That Morgana hadn't been opened to the truth, but rather blinded.

And what had she said about finding the truth? The one who had helped her in her darkest hour? But … Morgause was dead. Did she mean Morgause? What had been her darkest hour? Easy, when she first discovered she had magic. But … that would mean …

She slowly turned her head towards Merlin. He was asleep, like all the others. His head rested on his arm, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. She stared at him for a while. She couldn't possibly mean Merlin …

But it was true, when she had first discovered her magic was probably the worst few days of her life, she had no one to turn to, no one to talk about her powers with. Not even Gaius would admit to what it really was. But then Merlin had helped her. He had told her where to find the druids, and then he had kept her secret for her. He had been the one to help her in her darkest hour, not Morgause.

But he had poisoned her! He was _not_ her friend.

She shook with anger at the memory and rolled over. Percival caught her movement and watched her warily. She glared at him, and eventually he looked away. She exhaled and watched her breath form wispy tendrils of steam, disappearing into the night. She lay awake like that for another few hours; watching her breath become that of a dragons, and trying to escape her internal conflict. Eventually she finally fell asleep, but only to find her dreams even more troubled than her waking moments.

* * *

_Falling. Morgana was falling. She screamed aloud and flailed wildly in the emptiness. It was pitch-black; she couldn't even see her own body. She didn't know how long she fell for. Was it seconds? Hours? Days? The endless chasm loomed below her, threatening to completely swallow her up. She yelled once more, this time calling out for help. She wondered what was awaiting her when she finally reached the ground. There was a ground wasn't there? You always woke up the instant before you hit it in dreams. What would happen if there wasn't an end to this falling? Would she fall forever?_

_It was cold there in the darkness. There was no sun, no stars, no sky, nothing. But wait, there was something. There, below her. It was light. She could see the ground and it was so far below her she could barely make it out, but she could feel how fast she was falling and knew she would be there soon. Then she would wake up._

And if you don't? _a voice asked._

_"I will, I will," she said aloud. "It's just a dream."_

Is it? _The voice said._

_Morgana looked down, the ground was closer now and she was falling faster than ever._

_"Help me!" she cried to the voice._

I can't. You did this to yourself.

_The ground was rushing up to meet her, a cold stone floor, paved with grey slabs. She screamed and squeezed her eyes shut._

_"Open you eyes."_

_Morgana did as she was told. She was lying on the stone floor she had seen, apparently unharmed. She looked around and saw the stone slabs stretched out for about twenty feet in all directions before it was swallowed by the darkness. She looked up and saw only the darkness of the chasm she had fallen down._

_"You did this Morgana."_

_She whipped her head around to see the woman with her eyes approaching her. She was wearing a dress of pure black, which faded perfectly into their surroundings._

_"What did I do?" she asked, standing up._

_The woman walked right up until they were stood face to face, then said, "You have put yourself here. You dug this pit single-handedly and threw yourself into it. You have reaped what you have sown."_

_Her eyes were alight with green fire again, glowing oddly in the darkness._

_"No, no I … where am I?" she asked._

_"You are in the deepest recesses of your mind."_

_"And why are you here?" she said defensively._

_"I told you, I'm here to help you," the woman gave her a small smile, her eyes filled with sympathy._

_"I don't need your help!" she protested. "Why would I need your help?!"_

_"Because you can't see who you really are."_

_"Why do I need to see? I _know_ who I am!"_

_She took a few steps backwards, away from the liar._

_"But you still can't see others for who they are. You're blinded by your hate for them," she stepped forwards, closing the distance between them again._

_"I know! You've told me!" she shouted. "Who are you? What do you want from me?"_

_"Did Morgause never mention me?"_

_Morgana stared._

_"You … you knew Morgause?" she said, hesitantly._

_"Yes, we grew up together," the woman smiled faintly at her memories._

_"Who are you? Tell me!" she demanded._

_The woman shook her head._

_"Just ask yourself this, Morgana," she said._

_The outline of the woman was becoming hazy; she was slipping away into the darkness._

_"How did you get here?"_

_"I … I fell …" she answered._

_"No. No you didn't."_

_As the woman disappeared completely, only her voice was left echoing throughout the chasm._

_And then Morgana realised. She hadn't fallen. She had jumped._

* * *

Morgana woke with a start. It was still dark, and for a moment she panicked, thinking she was still in the chasm, before she realised she was surrounded by the sleeping bodies of the knights. Gwaine was closest to her. His mouth was slightly open, and he was snoring softly. She lifted her head and looked over her shoulder to see that Leon was on guard duty now, his head drooping slightly. She laid her head back on the ground and thought about her dream.

The woman was lying. She was sure of it. These people around her were not her friends. How could they be? But, as much as she wanted to ignore the fact, she had seen some truth in her words. When she had looked in the mirror, she had seen what she was. Terrifying. But the change had been necessary. She wouldn't have achieved all that she had if she was still the person she had been several years ago.

She lifted her head again and looked over the sleeping figures of the knights at Merlin. She couldn't let him return to Camelot. Sooner or later he would tell Arthur, and then he would have Emrys on his side. Well, he'd had Emrys on his side for years, even if he didn't know it, but if he found out that Merlin had magic he might lift the ban on magic, which could lead to him making alliances with sorcerers, _her_ people.

Making her resolve, she slowly stood up, keeping silent so Leon wouldn't hear her. She picked her way through the sleeping knights, heading straight for Merlin. She stopped by Arthur and bent down towards his sword. She unsheathed it silently and put the handle between her knees, clamping it tightly with them. She placed the rope tying her hands together on the blade and drew it back and forth, cutting through the bonds. Soon, they fell to the ground and she had full use of her hands once again. She took the sword back in her hand and brushed past her half-brother. Coming to a halt above Merlin, she raised the sword high.

Completely unaware of what was about to happen, he slept on peacefully. He had almost recovered from his two weeks of torture. His magic was mending his soul, Morgana could feel it. He truly was powerful. This angered her for some reason and she decided to aim, not for his heart, but for his stomach. That would earn him a painful death.

"Goodbye, Merlin," she said spitefully.

His eyes flew open and he caught sight of her standing above him. Fear flooded his face and he opened his mouth, perhaps to scream, or to call for help. Either way it didn't matter. He never got the chance.

Morgana plunged the sword straight towards his body.

* * *

_MWAH HA HA HA HAAAA!_

_Evil, aren't I? Who hates me for leaving it there? I LOVE doing cliffhangers!_


	10. Chapter 10

_A big thank you to everyone who has reviwed, favourited, or followed this story._

_I've been favouring Morgana's point of view lately, but that will change in this chapter, where I'm focusing on Merlin, Arthur and the mysterious Morgause look-alike._

_So where were we? Ah yes. Morgana is driving Excalibur towards Merlin's body. Cue my evil laugh._

* * *

"Goodbye, Merlin."

Merlin wrenched himself from his dreamless bliss and opened his eyes at the sound of his name. Morgana was standing over him, a sword raised high in the air. He only had time to gasp, and then the sword was plunging towards his stomach.

"NO!"

Suddenly, a dark shape flung themselves out of nowhere and collided with Morgana. She emitted a cry of surprise and the sword flew out of her grasp, landing out of reach. Merlin sat up, his heart threatening to jump right out of his throat, and saw Gwaine pinning Morgana down.

"Are you alright?" he asked him.

Merlin nodded.

"What's going on?"

That was Arthur, he and the other knights were just waking up, having been alerted by Gwaine's shout.

"Morgana, she just tried to kill Merlin," he replied.

She writhed on the ground and attempted to bite his hand. He yanked it out of the way.

"What?!" Leon exclaimed, joining the others.

Elyan crouched next to Merlin to check if he was alright.

"Why did you try to kill him?" Arthur said to the figure lying in the dirt.

She grinned wickedly.

"Wouldn't you like to know," she taunted.

She rolled over and jumped to her feet, throwing her body at Arthur. Gwaine and Percival grabbed her by the shoulders, trapping her.

"Why's he so important to you?" Arthur asked.

Merlin cringed. _Don't Morgana. Don't tell them._

She gave a short sharp laugh.

"You really don't know, do you?"

Arthur looked at her curiously.

"Know what?"

She grinned maliciously.

Merlin held his breath. _No no no no no. Please Morgana._

But she just continued to leer at them, her eyes taunting them with the knowledge that only she and Merlin knew.

Arthur looked at her, loosing patience.

"Tell me," he demanded.

"What's she talking about Merlin?" asked Elyan, still beside him.

They all turned to him.

He swallowed, his throat suddenly very dry.

_Tell them and I'll kill you._

He flinched at Morgana's voice in his mind, his eyes darting up to meet hers. She was staring intensely at him, making it quite clear that she meant every word.

_Say it and you'll wish you were never born._

"I … I don't know," he said, hoping they wouldn't catch the lie in his words.

It was quite obvious that they had. Arthur frowned slightly and Gwaine raised an eyebrow.

"Merlin, just tell us," said Gwaine.

"I don't know," he repeated, his voice slightly stronger now.

"Mate, it obvious you're lying –"

"Gwaine, leave him," Arthur said, catching the look on his servants face.

Merlin was grateful for it. He didn't want them to find out. Not yet …

* * *

"Tie her up," Arthur ordered. "To that tree over there."

He indicated to the other side of their camp. Percival and Gwaine dragged her over to it and sat her down with her back to the trunk. They started to bind her to it, making sure she couldn't move her arms at all. They tied her ankles together for good measure. Leon went back to doing his guard duty, this time making sure he was facing Morgana this time.

As the other knights settled back down to sleep, Arthur went to sit by Merlin, who was still staring at Morgana.

"Merlin," he said.

He jumped and glanced at his master.

Arthur hadn't had a proper conversation with Merlin since they'd found him, and wanted to say what was on his mind.

"Merlin, what happened with Morgana?"

The younger man flinched, ducking his head to look at the ground.

Arthur sighed.

"Come on," he said, standing up.

Merlin looked at him questioningly.

"Let's go for a walk," he pulled on his manservant's arm to make him stand up.

They walked away from the camp, Arthur muttering to Leon, "Back soon."

Merlin followed him; slightly reluctantly it seemed to him. Once the embers of the fire they had made were just a dim glow in the distance, Arthur turned to his friend.

"What really happened with Morgana?" he asked.

After an awkward silence from Merlin, he tried again.

"What did she do to you?"

"She … she tortured me," he eventually said.

Arthur felt the rage begin to stir inside of him. He had expected it, he had seen the marks on his body, yet to hear him say it like that … it made him furious.

"With that knife Elyan found?"

He nodded, avoiding his eyes.

"She will pay for this."

Merlin looked up, shocked at the tone in Arthur's voice.

"I swear Merlin, I'll make her pay."

His brow creased, slightly worried about what he was saying.

"Arthur," he said. "You don't need to –"

"Yes, I do," he interrupted.

He placed his hands on his hips and focused his gaze on a spot on the forest floor just behind Merlin, wondering just how to explain how he felt. Deciding that he couldn't, he said, "What else happened? She was torturing you on the identity and whereabouts of Emrys, wasn't she?"

"Yes."

"Why did she want to know?" he asked, shifting his gaze back to Merlin.

"I don't know."

"And did she get this information?"

Merlin didn't say anything.

"Merlin? It's a simple enough question," he said, eyeing him suspiciously.

Still he didn't speak, his eyes shifting to the side.

"You told her didn't you?"

"Not exactly," he finally said.

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked, narrowing his eyes.

"She sort of figured it out on her own," Merlin was still refusing to meet his gaze.

"So she knows then."

He nodded.

"Does this change anything? I mean, what does her knowing mean for Camelot?"

Arthur had wondered about this, but couldn't see how Morgana knowing the identity of an old man could affect them much.

"I doubt it will change much. She'll just target Camelot as always."

He felt relived, not about Morgana targeting Camelot, but the fact that nothing would change. It seemed that Emrys wasn't too important to them after all.

He then hesitated and said, "Merlin, when we found you, Morgana stabbed you. She looked … well, livid. What made her look like that? What did you do?"

Merlin winced.

"Um," he said. "She'd just realised who Emrys was, and she got angry."

"Why?" Arthur asked, failing to see how accomplishing your goal would make you angry.

"Because … I didn't tell her? I don't know."

He had the feeling that he wasn't telling the whole truth, and the way Merlin was looking anywhere but at Arthur was supporting this feeling.

Deciding he'd let that matter drop, he moved on to a more important question.

"Why did she try to kill you just now?"

There. That was it. Merlin completely tensed up and shut his lips firmly.

"Come on, Merlin, we're alone. You can tell me."

"I don't know."

That was obviously a lie.

"Merlin, tell me."

"I said I don't know."

"Tell me!"

He shook his head, then raised his gaze so he was looking Arthur straight in the eyes.

"I don't know," he repeated.

He sighed, and then stepped closer to his manservant.

"This could be important. Do you know anything about her or her plans that we should know?"

Again he just shook his head.

"I don't know anything you don't," he said.

Arthur could tell he would get nothing more out of him that night, so he said, "Fine don't tell me."

They turned around to head back to the camp, when he placed a hand on Merlin's shoulder. He turned to look at him and Arthur gave him a smile.

"It's good to have you back," he said, and he meant it.

Merlin returned the comment with a weak smile of his own and the two continued in silence back to the camp.

* * *

The woman hummed to herself. It wouldn't be long now. Finally she would get a proper glimpse of Morgana Pendragon.

She sat on one of the lower branches of a tree, her back to the trunk, whittling a small piece of wood with a knife. The tune she hummed was one she had been taught as a child. It was meant to be sung in the darkness, to calm a small child and banish the fears.

Her leg dangled over the side of the branch, the other one brought up to her chest. She sent another glimpse down the path along which King Arthur and his knights would soon come along. There was no sign of them yet; just a couple of deer, grazing by the roadside. But they wouldn't be long.

She had entered Morgana's dreams twice now and slowly but surely she was altering her mind. The sorceress already doubted herself. The woman was pleased with this; she hadn't expected her to react so quickly.

As she leant back against the rough bark of the trunk and examined her wood work, she heard faintly in the distance the soft clip-clop of horse's hooves.

At last, she smiled, they had arrived.

Soon they came into view, Arthur in the lead, a man with  
messy, raven hair in the saddle behind him. The rest of the knights followed, and Morgana, her hands bound, was sitting in the saddle with one of them. As they drew closer, the woman recognised the man riding with Arthur. It was Emrys. Her smile widened.

Soon the group were just twenty feet from the tree she sat in, no one having noticed her yet. But then Morgana looked up. Her eyes widened as she saw the woman.

"You!" she screeched.

The knights all looked at her, then followed her gaze to the tree. The effect was instantaneous. Arthur and all the knights dismounted, he drawing his sword and shouting, "Morgause!"

"Funny," the woman said. "I heard she was dead."

The knights paused at her words, realising that her voice was higher than Morgause's, and then noticing the differences in their appearances.

"I also heard that _you_ killed her," she aimed her words at Morgana.

Morgana seethed in the saddle, and when she spoke her words were harsh.

"It was not I that killed her; she was dying long before we made our way to the Isle of the Blessed."

"Yes, I heard that too."

The woman jumped down from her perch and landed on the path, balancing on her toes. She straightened up and examined the knight's surprised expressions.

"What?" she asked. "Never seen a woman in men's clothes before?"

It was true; she was wearing men's clothes. They were just so much more practical than dresses and she had found herself wearing them more and more often those days.

"Who are you?" Arthur asked.

"No one in particular. A simple commoner, like your friend there," she indicated to the man still sitting on his horse, giving said man a meaningful look.

His eyes widened in shock as he grasped her meaning. Morgana too noticed, however it didn't surprise her so much.

"I find that hard to believe," she said, her voice cold.

So she still didn't trust her. Frankly it was understandable, she hadn't given her any reason to like her and she hadn't even told her what her name was yet.

"Do you two know each other or something?" asked one knight, the one who had been riding with Morgana.

He had jumped off his horse to confront the woman, and as he turned to face her once more she recognised his face. She'd heard stories about him.

"Ah, Strength! A pleasure to meet you!"

Most of the gathering looked confused, only Strength himself and Emrys seemed to understand. None the less, they still looked surprised.

"How do you know –?"

"I wish to speak to you," she cut across him, turning to Morgana.

"About what?" she asked, warily.

"I think you'll know when the time comes," she said cryptically.

She started to walk past them, in the direction they had just come from.

"Goodbye sire," she said, giving him a little bow as she passed him.

"Wait!" he called.

She turned around, a question on her face.

"Yes, my lord?"

"You said you wished to speak to her," the young king looked confused.

"Yes?"

"If you have anything to say, you'd better say it now. You won't get much chance later."

She smiled inwardly at his naivety.

"I'm sure there'll be plenty of time. Don't worry, I'll make it there before the execution."

Morgana was seething, furious that the woman dared speak of her death in such a calm and cheerful way. She noticed this, and her expression became somewhat more sombre.

"Until the next time then, Morgana Pendragon," she said, and with that turned away and continued down the path.

* * *

_See, I'm getting good at not killing Merlin! Next chapter ought to be up tomorrow._


	11. Chapter 11

_I've had some complaints about my character Ayra, people saying that she's bordering on a Mary-Sue. Sorry about giving her magic, it was necessary for the plot. I didn't really want her to be cremated with everyone thinking she was Merlin and I also wanted to give her a proper goodbye. (Seriously, can you guys blame me?) Hopefully, in future fanfics my OC's won't all have magic and will be more original._

_Oh look! Gaius is in this chapter! I probably should have dragged him into this earlier, but at least he's here now. And yet another return from Mystery Woman. (I'm still debating over when is the best time to actually reveal her identity.)_

* * *

They reached Camelot in the early afternoon of the same day, and Morgana was immediately thrown in the dungeons, apparently her magic still hadn't returned to her. Merlin wondered just how powerful he had made his spell. He hadn't expected it to last very long, especially in the state he had been in. He guessed he'd been wrong.

He had almost fully recovered from his ordeal, but still found himself considerably weaker than usual. Arthur had sent him to Gaius as soon as they had reached the citadel of course. He sat in the physician's chambers with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and tried to explain to his mentor what had happened to him.

"What did this knife look like?" the physician asked.

"It had a long and curved blade. The metal looked almost like stone," he shivered involuntary.

"I've heard of these Blades. I didn't think there were any left. Here, drink this," Gaius handed him a small bottle.

Merlin took it and downed the liquid in one. He shuddered at the taste.

"You'll need to take one of those every few hours," he said.

He looked appalled at this idea.

"_Why?_ Am I really that bad?"

"Merlin, you're as pale as death and shaking like a leaf."

"No I'm not," he protested weakly.

"Have you seen a mirror lately?"

"No."

Gaius smiled and said, "It's good to have you back, Merlin."

He rolled his eyes and looked down into the bowl of stew that had been placed in front of him. Goodness knows what was in it. Unsurprisingly, he wasn't hungry. He pushed the bowl away and said, "You said Mother's here. Can I see her?"

"I'm sure Arthur's telling her you're back right now. She'll be relived," he said, mixing some ingredients together for a potion.

Merlin looked up at this.

"Relived? Gaius, she thought I was dead," he pointed out.

"Yes, I know. She made herself sick with grief and then with worry."

"Is she alright?" he asked, suddenly worried himself.

"She's fine, especially once she knows you're safe," Gaius pushed the stew back in front of him. "Eat."

Merlin picked up his spoon and dipped it into his stew thoughtfully. He hadn't really thought much about how everyone had reacted when they believed he was dead. He'd been in so many situations where he had almost died, but he'd never once properly considered what would happen if he actually had died. Well, except for that one time when he'd asked Arthur –

A devious smile crept across his face.

"Gaius?" he said.

"Mm?" his mentor said, absorbed in his work.

"Arthur once said that if I died he'd make me a hero."

Gaius looked up.

"Did he?"

"Merlin," he scolded. "We barely thought you were dead for twenty four hours."

"That doesn't answer my question."

He went back to his potion mixing and resisted the temptation to smile.

"He said he'd make sure you were remembered. But if it makes you feel any better, he made sure everyone knew the story of how Ayra bravely jumped in front of you."

Merlin's grin faded, reminded about the girl who'd sacrificed herself in an attempt to save him. Gaius noticed this, put the vial he was holding down and sat at the bench opposite him.

"It wasn't your fault," he said, reaching over to place a hand on his wards shoulder.

"It was. I could have done something. I should have used my magic to protect her," he stared into the stew, remembering the hazel eyes of the girl who should have lived.

"You couldn't, Merlin. Morgana would have known about your magic then," Gaius reasoned.

"It wouldn't have made any difference then," he said mournfully to his food.

"What do you mean?"

"She knows. She knows I'm Emrys."

His mentor was silent for a while, processing the information in his head.

"Well," he said eventually. "I suppose you'll just have to be more careful from now on."

"I don't suppose it matters much. Arthur will probably have her executed tomorrow."

For some reason this made him sad. He figured it was because he still hoped that the old Morgana still existed. But he knew she didn't, she was long gone. He tried to banish the thoughts from his mind and thought instead of what Kilgarrah would say right now. He would be rejoicing, telling Merlin that he should be celebrating, joyful that the witch would die.

But Merlin had never been able to accept the death of a friend, even a traitorous one. Which brought him back to Ayra's death. She had only been, what twenty? They hadn't spoken much, but always smiled at each other when they crossed paths. Thinking about it, what they had said in the forest was the most they had ever said to each other. She definitely hadn't deserved to leave the world.

He wondered why she had tried to save him. Why had she been so willing to throw herself in the way of Morgana's spell? It was probably a spur-of-the-moment thing, it wasn't like she would have had any time to deliberate about what she was about to do. He himself had barely any time to raise a finger, let alone throw his body across the space of a few feet. She must have acted instinctively, which meant she was a very brave and good person to have taken the spell for someone she had hardly ever spoken to.

Lost in his thoughts, Merlin barely noticed when someone entered the room. However, he did notice the scream and the flurry of movement as someone flung themselves at him. Turning around, he was suddenly caught in a strangling hug, his view blocked by a mane of brown hair. Pulling away from his attacker, he saw it was Hunith, his mother.

"Mother!" he cried.

Her face was covered with relief and joy, tears coursing down her cheeks.

"Merlin," she said, placing a hand on his cheek.

She pulled him in for another hug and he threw his arms around her. He saw Gaius leave the room from the corner of his eye, giving the two some time alone.

He closed his eyes and smiled. She smelled of home.

* * *

Gwen and Arthur watched from the doorway the interaction between mother and son. Gwen smiled as she watched the two embrace. She was so happy that Merlin had been returned safely and seemed no worse for wear. He might be a little paler than usual and he kept shaking, but he hadn't lost his sunny smile.

All that Arthur had told her was that he had been tortured by Morgana; he had changed the subject when she pressed him for more details. She didn't mind this much; she could ask Elyan for the whole story later on.

She was impressed by Merlin's ability to recover so quickly from such an ordeal and was glad that he wasn't showing signs of any long-term effects. But then she remembered the other person the knights had brought back and she turned to Arthur.

"What are you going to do with Morgana?" she asked.

He looked down at her, sorrow filling his eyes.

"I'm going to give her a fair trial, although I doubt she won't be found guilty. She'll most likely be executed for her crimes."

She intertwined her fingers with his and he drew her closer to him, she rested her head against his chest.

"I wish we had her back," she voiced aloud.

He nodded.

"So do I," he said. "So do I."

* * *

She strode through the streets of the citadel, her cloak billowing out behind her, the midnight blue dress reflecting the appearance of the sky exactly. She had changed out of her more practical garments into something that a woman of Camelot would be expected to be seen in so she wouldn't raise suspicion. Yet as a couple of guards passed her she still crouched behind a wooden cart. It was odd for someone to be up and about this late, and she couldn't afford to lose any time. As the guards passed, she straightened up and once again strode purposefully towards the castle.

Soon she was inside, and the chill of the night wasn't so noticeable. She needed to speak to Morgana, preferably before she died, but first she had to see someone else.

She entered the court physician's chambers and immediately saw a stooped figure bending over a large book, a single candle on the table beside them. They looked up as she entered, and she saw the figure to be Gaius, the court physician, which was unsurprising as she was in his chambers.

"Who's there?" he asked, the lone flame on his table hardly enough to illuminate her face.

_"Forbearne."_

At that one word, every single candle in the room blossomed an individual flame, casting a warm glow over the woman in Gaius's doorway.

He stared at her, surprised at this show of magic. Then he recognised her face and stumbled backwards.

"No," he breathed. "Impossible. You were still-born."

"And yet here I am, Gaius. Alive and well," she spread her arms outwards, as though to illustrate that point.

"What do you want?"

"I want to speak to Emrys."

His eyebrows shot upwards, his eyes widening at the simple statement.

"I don't know an Emrys," he said, trying to hide his reaction far too late.

"Don't lie, I know who he is. Merlin. I know where he is. Just through that door," she pointed behind him to the room where Merlin slept.

Gaius stared at her.

"But … how? What do you want with him?"

He placed himself between her and the door. She almost laughed at the attempt. Like an old man could stop her.

"Step aside, I only wish to talk to him," she said.

He still looked doubtful and refused to move.

"I promise I shall not harm him. I know my … heritage may make you think otherwise, but I have no reason to think wrong of him," she placed her right hand over her heart. "I swear."

The old physician looked her over, his eyes taking in her from head to toe. Her gaze flickered to a point behind him and she smiled.

"Why don't you come down here Emrys?" she said.

Gaius's eyes widened again and he turned to follow her gaze.

After a few moments, the raven haired man she had seen in the woods came hesitantly down the short flight of steps. He stopped at the bottom, still in his nightshirt, his hair ruffled from lying on a pillow. She was amused at his appearance. This was the mighty Emrys? If someone had told her several years ago that the most powerful warlock in history was a just a clumsy servant, she would have laughed in their face. But no, this _was_ Emrys, no matter what her own imaginings of him had been.

"Hello Emrys," she said.

He looked slightly wary of her, and rightly so, he should be cautious of her. She wasn't exactly the most trustworthy of people, despite her intentions.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"Just to tell you something, a bit of advice."

He narrowed his eyes, waiting.

"I know things seem uncertain and confusing at the moment, but one day things will change. Someone will come and they will set things right. They will stand by your side and help in the making of Albion, and when the deepest of shadows has covered the kingdom, they will come to its aid. They will be our saviour," she bowed her head and a sad smile crossed her face.

The warlock looked confused.

"Who?" he asked.

"Not who you think," she replied, turning to leave. "Goodbye Emrys."

"Wait!" he called.

She didn't respond, walking out of the room and away from the glow of her candles.

* * *

_Okay, so not much happened in this chapter (except for Hunith nearly strangling Merlin and Mystery Woman being more cryptic than Kilgarrah) but I felt it was necesary for the plot._

_Next chapter up tomorrow! (Hopefully.)_


	12. Chapter 12

_Whoever invented writers block shall soon be recieving a very angry letter._

_But despite my darn brain and attention span I managed to write this chapter. It took me so long! (Compared to how long it usually takes me to write 2000 words.)_

_Anyway, enjoy!_

* * *

The cell was dark, only a small shaft of light entered through the narrow window. Morgana sat in the corner, her back resting against the wall, twisting the manacles on her wrists around. She was in the same spacious cell that Uther had put her in all those years ago when she had tried to help Mordred escape Camelot. However the circumstances this time were quite different. Her trial was tomorrow, and if she was found guilty, the day after would be her execution.

She wasn't afraid, her magic would have returned by then and she would be able to escape easily. She could feel it now, it was slowly returning to her. Bubbling just beneath the surface, waiting to emerge. By morning she would have her full powers back, and then she would disappear, but not without paying a quick visit to Merlin.

Morgana leaned her head against the wall and watched the dust swirling in the moonlight. It moved in odd patterns, gliding this way and that, dancing to the sounds of the night.

"Hello again, Morgana."

She snapped her head around to see the woman from her dreams standing in the corner. She wasn't even surprised by this point. She had grown tired of her game.

"What do you want?" she demanded.

She stayed sitting, hardly bothered to stand up.

"I thought I'd told you that. I want to help you," she gave a sly smile.

"Yes you said," she snapped. "If you want to help me you can take these off."

She held out the manacles on her wrists. Like she would need help.

The woman ignored this and came closer, sitting down on the cell floor facing her.

"I wanted to ask you why you do all this," she said.

"All what?" she asked, bitterly.

"Why you betrayed your friends, why you killed your father, why you believe the throne of Camelot rightfully belongs to you," she waited. "So why do you?"

"Believe the throne belongs to me? Because it does," she said, completely convinced of this.

The woman wasn't however.

"Do you believe that because you are older than Arthur? I'll tell you now, it doesn't belong to you. It belongs to him. Your mother, Vivian, was never married to Uther; you were born out of wedlock. You are not the rightful heir."*

"I am his daughter, I am his heir. The throne is _mine_," she said, forcefully.

The woman shook her head regretfully.

"I'm sorry that Morgause found you before I did. She has poisoned your mind; she's the one who tied the blindfold over your eyes –"

"Stop talking about her like that!" Morgana shouted.

The woman looked at her stoically.

"Why did you kill Uther?" she asked.

"Because he was a tyrant."

The woman snorted.

"And you're not?" she laughed. "You hypocrite! In your short reign you murdered more innocent people than he did in a year!"

"It was necessary," she replied, not amused.

"No," she said, becoming serious once more. "It wasn't. You are worse than he ever was."

This infuriated her. She felt the blood rushing to her face.

"How dare you say that?! After all I've tried to achieve!" she shouted. "Don't tell me you're a supporter of his."

At these words the woman's face became grave.

"I'm not. I'm really not. I hated him, and everything he had done, yet I still don't think he deserved to die the way he did."

Morgana could see the hatred in the woman's face, and was surprised that someone who hated Uther so much could possibly think that he didn't deserve to die.

"If you hated him so much, why do you feel sorry for him?" she asked.

"Because I know the reasons for his actions. He was blinded by fear, much like you are blinded by hate," she looked directly into her eyes at this point. "And I don't think that even you deserve what happened to him, at least not yet. But you will if you continue. If you don't change, you will tear this world apart, everything as we know it will end and all that is good will die. You will become the exact opposite of good, the very epitome of evil. Please Morgana, don't. Don't become that."

Morgana was shocked at what this woman thought would happen to her. The very epitome of evil? But she wasn't evil! How dare she suggest such a thing!

Rippling with anger, she jumped to her feet and ran at the woman. She didn't even flinch, didn't even acknowledge that she had a slightly insane looking witch charging at her. And then, all of a sudden, she wasn't there.

The chains around Morgana's wrists were pulled taught and she was jerked backwards. Ignoring the pain in her wrists, she looked around in confusion. Where did she go?

"You let your anger get the better of you."

She spun around. The woman was standing exactly where she had been just a moment ago, casually leaning against the wall, her arms folded.

"I'm sorry to be the one to tell you these things, but I know them to be true," she said, her expression sorrowful.

"Oh really? And how do you know of such _lies_?" she spat.

"Because I have visions, like you do."

Morgana paused at this information. Could it be true?

"However unlike you, I choose to see these visions," the woman indicated to the healing bracelet Morgana was wearing. "I choose to see the future and to be prepared for what's coming."

"Is that how you know so much about me?" she asked.

The woman smiled.

"Partly. I have to go now, but I'll be back soon. I'll see if I can attend your trial," she made to move towards the cell door.

"Don't get your hopes up, I won't be here for that," she muttered. "Won't you tell me who you are?"

The woman stopped and turned around slowly.

"My name is Elaine," she said.

Morgana just stared at her. She had said the name as though she should know who she was, but she didn't. She had never heard of her before.

Elaine smiled sadly.

"Morgause never did mention me did she?"

"No, why should she have?"

She took a step closer and laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Because we are sisters," she said simply.

Morgana gaped at her. But … she didn't have another sister. Morgause was her only sister. She backed away, Elaine's hand falling to her side. They couldn't be sisters. But then again … _her eyes_. They were exactly the same as her own, and she looked so similar to her half-sister.

"No," she said, stumbling backwards. "I don't have another sister."

"Turns out you do," she said, taking a step forwards. "We are of the same blood. We share the same mother."

Morgana shook her head, trying to rid it of the lies Elaine was feeding her.

"I am Morgause's twin. She was born just a few minutes before I was, but when I entered the world, there was no breath in my body. I was still-born. Mother was distraught; she had one healthy daughter, but she could not get over the one who would not breathe.

"In the same night I was born, she and my father took my small body to the Isle of the Blessed. There they met Nimueh, and she told them that if they wished me to live a death would have to occur. Mother was ready to give her life for mine, but Father stepped in. It was a risky thing to do. Even Nimueh wasn't sure if it would work because I was already dead, but somehow it did. I sometimes wonder if destiny caused me to live and my father to die.

"But Nimueh had asked a price, and in return for giving me life – using more of her magic than usual in the process – she requested that I stay at the Isle of the Blessed. Mother protested, but Nimueh had done her this favour and she couldn't refuse. So I was left on the Isle, never to see either parent again. I was raised there, taught the ways of the Old Religion, and became a high priestess. Then, a few years later, Morgause came to the Isle. We became friends, inseparable, we _were_ twins of course."

Elaine paused here, a smile playing on her lips, caught up in her memories.

Morgana watched her in awe. Her story didn't seem quite right – she hadn't been aware that it was possible to bring someone back from the dead, except as a shade – but the tale had truth in it. She spoke from the heart and her words clearly weren't rehearsed.

"But then Morgause started to change. She became obsessed with what Uther was doing to our kind, saying he ought to go for Hell for his crimes. Nimueh didn't help, she told us of what he had done when she had only granted him his wish. We grew apart, and then one day she left. She went to find you."

Elaine's eyes flitted to meet Morgana's again. Pale green iris to pale green iris.

"I watched from afar, not wanting to get involved. I'd never wanted to get involved; all I wished for was a peaceful life where I could practise my magic without being burnt at the stake for it. I was content to wait for the time when the Once and Future King would rule Albion, the time when we would be free to use magic in this land; I could see it in my visions, the time would come sooner than we all thought. But then I became worried about what you and Morgause were doing. At first I thought she just wanted Uther dead, which I can't say that I didn't want too, but then things changed. She wanted more than that, she wanted Camelot, and she was prepared to corrupt you to get it."

Elaine hesitated once again, and took a deep breath.

"After her death I thought things might be different. I thought it was just her influence making you the way you were. I thought that perhaps once she was dead you might change. But I was wrong; you became even more ruthless than before. My visions had told me that if you continued down this path, Albion would never be born. So finally I stepped in. And here we are."

As Elaine finished her story, Morgana gaped at her.

She was unsure what to think, the tale made sense, in a way. Morgause had certainly changed her, but she had always thought it had been for the better.

And then there was this "Once and Future King". She didn't know what to make of that. Someone who would lift the ban on magic? But that was what she would do. What king would make magic free in the land? Certainly not Arthur, he was too much like Uther for his own good.

She put her head in her hands and tried to process the thoughts flying around her mind. Giving up, she looked again at her supposed sister. Elaine was watching her interestedly, as though wondering what she was making of her story. Of her lies.

"This … this cannot be the truth," she eventually said.

Elaine nodded sadly.

"I knew I wouldn't be the one to convince you. That task belongs to someone else."

"Oh really? Who?"

"Emrys of course."

Morgana stiffened.

"He shall never convince me of anything," she spat. "Only of his betrayal."

"Your own betrayal," Elaine corrected her.

She adjusted her cloak around her body and said, "I think I shall be going now. You'll see Emrys soon enough. Try not to kill him. Oh! And that reminds me."

She moved forwards and took Morgana's chained hands in her own.

"_Ontende eallne thaes drycraeftes hire swale_," she said.

"What are you –?"

Morgana's eyes widened as she realised what spell Elaine was using.

"NO!" she screamed, hurling herself at her sister.

But it was too late. Morgana's magic was once again dormant. Elaine disappeared, vanishing into thin air, leaving just her voice resonating in Morgana's mind.

_I look forward to meeting the Lady Morgana._

* * *

_*I don't know if they used "wedlock" as a term in those days, but I couldn't think how else to put it. I'm also assuming that the reason Morgana thinks the throne belongs to her is because she's older than Arthur, just guessing though._

_Yes the Mysterious Woman is Elaine! Congratulations to all those of you who guessed correctly! And for those who don't know; in the original Arthurian legend, Arthur had three half-sisters; Morgause, Morgana and Elaine. I doubt that Morgause and Elaine were twins; I just put that in for convenience. There isn't much written about Elaine, I've only ever found one mention of her, so I've created a completely new character for her._

_Next chapter tomorrow!_


	13. Chapter 13

_Chapter thirteen! I probably won't be able to update tomorrow, because I'm going to London to watch the sprint canoe. Lucky me! Look for me in the stands, I'm the one with the curly hair with a camera, bouncing up and down in her seat screaming "COME ON GB!"_

Anyway_, I think we've had the last scene in this chapter coming ever since I started this story. Hope it pleases!_

* * *

"Rise and shine!"

Arthur groaned in his sleep and rolled over.

"Time to get up!"

He buried his head in his sheets and lobbed a pillow in the general direction of the voice.

"Go away Merlin," he said, his words muffled by his pillow.

"Come on sire!" came the annoyingly cheerful response.

He felt a tug on the bed sheets and he clutched them closer to him, firmly keeping his eyes shut. Why couldn't he just be left in peace for just a few more minutes?

But his servant was persistent. Arthur felt the covers being yanked off his body.

"Merlin!" he shouted, sitting up.

Wait … Merlin.

He eyed the man before him, who was grinning at him, the covers still in his hand.

"What are you doing here, Merlin?" he finally asked.

"Waking you up?" he said, going to open the curtains.

Arthur blinked at the sudden brightness and then said, "No, I mean … why are you here? In my chambers? I thought I gave you the day off?"

Merlin wrinkled his nose and set a plate of food one the table.

"Got bored. This is better than just sitting in Gaius's chambers, he won't let me out, despite saying I'm perfectly fine."

He looked at Arthur expectantly.

"Breakfast?" he said.

"Merlin, go home."

"No," he said, indignantly.

"_Merlin_."

"Arthur."

He scowled at the servant, annoyed by the amused glint in his eye. Sometimes he just didn't know what was good for him. He had just been tortured for two weeks; yet here he was, only three days later, making him breakfast. Gaius had said that he would need at least one more day to recover, and Arthur had agreed with him, even gone and told Merlin to stay in bed. But no, the idiot preferred to get up absurdly early to tend his master. And speaking of absurdly early …

"What time do you call this?" he asked.

Merlin looked from him to the window and back again.

"Dawn?" he tried.

"Yes, dawn."

Merlin stared at him, nonplussed.

"Merlin, it's dawn," he said, waiting for it to hit.

"And?"

"Why did you wake me up at the crack of dawn?" he said, his voice rising with each syllable.

"I thought you had training," he wandered over to the closet and began preparing something to wear.

"Yeah, _mid-morning_," he said angrily.

"Well then, you've got plenty of time to prepare," he joked.

Arthur finally lost his patience and threw a goblet at him, not caring what ordeals he had been though. Merlin ducked and it hit the wall, clanging loudly as metal met stone. He laughed and escaped through the door. Arthur grumbled to himself about idiotic servants and hauled himself off the bed.

* * *

Gwen walked down the corridor towards Arthur's chambers, having slept in her own separate chamber that night. She had woken up early and then hadn't been able to get back to sleep. Eventually, she had just got up and made her way towards Arthur's chambers. She hoped that he was already awake and she wouldn't be disturbing him.

She paused as she heard something clanging inside the room, then smiled. It sounded like Arthur had just lost his patience at Merlin. It was good to know that nothing had changed and that Merlin was still his normal self.

She was just about to open the door, when Merlin ran out through it, ducking his head as though he expected to be hit by something. He looked around and spotted her.

"Hello Gwen," he said.

"Good morning Merlin," she replied. "Already got on Arthur's bad side?"

"What? Oh, yeah," he grinned sheepishly.

The grin faded off his face and he shuffled his feet a little.

"Um, Gwen?" he said.

"Yes?"

"I wanted to ask you something," he looked rather awkward, ruffling up the back of his hair with his hand.

"What is it?"

"It's about Ayra."

Gwen face fell. She still wasn't over the death of her maidservant. It just hadn't been her time.

"What about her?" she asked.

"Arthur said that … at the end, she spoke to you all. Was she alright?" he asked, his eyes filling with pain.

"Merlin," she said, placing a hand on her cheek. "It wasn't your fault, it was Morgana's."

He shook his head.

"But it wasn't. She would have left her and just taken me. Ayra jumped in front of me on purpose. She tried to save me; if I'd just have reacted quicker I could have done something."

He hung his head in shame and Gwen put both of her hands on his shoulders.

"No," she said, firmly. "It was _not_ your fault."

He looked up, surprised at the force in her words.

"You are not to blame," she shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. "She was a brave person and she willingly sacrificed herself for you, if you want someone to blame, blame her. Blame her bravery."

She glared at him, daring him to feel responsible for her death for a second longer.

"She was very brave," he agreed. "To die for someone she barely knew. We'd never even spoken much before, why would she die for me?"

Gwen inwardly smiled at Merlin's naivety. She had seen the looks Ayra had given him; the two had even spoken about him on occasion. It had been obvious to her what Ayra's feelings towards him were, and she was surprised that he couldn't see it himself.

"She had a very good heart. And as to your question, she was fine. A little scared, but alright."

She took a deep breath and said, "She's at peace now. She can't get hurt where she is."

He smiled at her words and drew her into a hug. They stayed in their embrace for a few moments, and then broke apart. Gwen wiped a tear from her face and smiled gratefully.

"I'd better go," he said. "Things to do, prats to tend."

He smiled once more and walked away down the corridor. Gwen watched him go.

_He really is an extraordinary person_, she thought.

* * *

Morgana waited. She watched the specks of dust floating in the air, waiting for her time to come. It was the day of her trial, the one she hadn't planned on attending. But thanks to Elaine she had no choice. The enchantment she had cast was powerful; she doubted whether she would regain her powers before her execution. She would be found guilty, of that she had no doubt; Arthur would make sure of it. And then she would die.

She had given up trying to separate truth from lies; she could no longer tell which was which. She suspected that Elaine might have cast some other sort of spell upon her, one to make her lose her grasp on reality; but she couldn't tell, which made her suspect this even more.

Instead of attempting to sort out her thoughts, she turned her mind to anything that wasn't to do with Morgause, Elaine, or her actions over the past few years. This, of course, didn't leave much, mainly just the years she had spent in Camelot. But those memories were painful. She didn't want to think about them. So instead she thought about the years before even then, when she still thought Gorlois was her father. Those were better memories.

She looked up at the sound of someone unlocking the door to her cell. It was one of the guards, her trial was about to begin.

* * *

When Morgana was brought into the council room, a hush fell across the room. She held her head high, glaring at the various members of court. Her hands were shackled in chains and a guard was standing next to her, holding the ends of them. Arthur sat in his chair, Gwen next to him. He surveyed his sister, hiding his loathing under a mask of indifference.

Merlin stood at the back, avoiding looking anywhere other than at his feet. He didn't want to see this.

"Morgana Pendragon," Arthur said, his voice carrying throughout the room. "You have been accused of using magic and enchantments against Camelot, murdering innocent people, and torturing others."

At this he gave a quick glance at Merlin. Merlin continued to act as though his boots were incredibly interesting.

"Do you have anything to say in your defence?" he asked her.

Looking directly into his eyes, Morgana said, "I doubt anything I have to say will change my fate."

Frowning slightly, Arthur replied with, "But surely there is something you want to say?"

She hesitated for a moment.

"I didn't choose to have magic, it chose me," she said.

"I know Morgana, and that is not why you are here. You are here because of your crimes against Camelot and its people."

"I know. I don't regret everything, but … there are some things I wish I'd never done … and there are some things I wish people had told me."

She hesitated, and Merlin looked up. With a shock he realised that she was looking directly at him.

"If they had told me these things we might not be where we are today."

Merlin forgot to breath. She was talking about his magic, about how he should have told her. She was actually admitting that she might not have done all this if he had told her.

A lump formed in his throat and he swallowed. She was actually admitting it.

Morgana looked away from him and back to Arthur, who had noticed this interaction and was eyeing her curiously.

"Just get on with it," she spat.

Merlin looked back at his feet and tried to block out the words he knew were coming.

"Morgana Pendragon," Arthur said. "I sentence you to death by execution."

* * *

Merlin ran down to the dungeons. After the trial had ended, Morgana had been taken straight away back to her cell. He had followed, chasing after Arthur who had gone down with her. He raced down the dungeon steps, the guards recognising him as Arthur's manservant and letting him pass. He ran around a corner and almost collided with Arthur.

"Merlin!" he shouted. "Watch it!"

"Sorry," he said, bending over to catch his breath. "Arthur, I want to speak to Morgana."

He looked up to see his friends surprised expression.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yes! Just let me see her," he exclaimed.

He looked dubious, so he said, "Arthur, please."

Still unsure, he said, "Fine, but be quick."

He unlocked the cell door and stepped aside for him to enter.

Merlin stepped tentatively inside and looked around the spacious cell. Morgana was sitting in the corner, her head resting against the wall. She hadn't noticed him enter. Arthur closed the door behind him and relocked it. She looked up, and was surprised to see him standing by the door.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

He hesitated for a moment, then said, "I came to see you."

She tilted her head to one side and said sarcastically, "No, I had no idea."

He smiled awkwardly and took a few hesitant steps forward.

"What you said at the trial …"

"I meant it," she looked at him coldly. "If you had told me about your magic earlier we might not be here today."

He lowered his gaze.

"I'm sorry," he said.

When she didn't say anything he looked up again. She was looking at him with an odd expression on her face. He couldn't tell what it was and with a slight surprise he realised it was the same one she had worn when she had tortured him.

"Which – which parts do you regret?" he asked.

"I don't know. I'm still trying to sort that out. I think Elaine might have done something to my mind," she grimaced.

"Elaine?" he asked, confused.

"The woman we met in the woods," she replied.

A look of realisation dawned on his face. He had asked Gaius about the woman who had visited them the previous night, he spoken to her as though he had known who she was, but he had refused to say anything apart from "I thought she was dead."

"Who is she?" he asked.

"She claims to be Morgause's twin. Merlin," she stood up and took a step towards him. "Why are you here?"

"I ... I don't know," he said eventually.

"Did Elaine send you?" she asked.

His brow creased a little.

"No," he said. "She came to see me last night, but –"

"She came to see you? What did she say?" Morgana asked, jumping at anything that might help her understand the woman claiming to be her sister.

"Um, something about someone being the kingdoms saviour and shadows. Do you know what it means?" he asked, jumping at anything that might help him understand the cryptic riddle.

"No."

"Oh."

They stood in silence for a moment, before Merlin said, "Morgana? Are you … scared?"

"About my death? No. I've never been scare of death, maybe a little of dying, but not death. I just wish I could figure out the difference between truth and lies before I go."

"Can't you?" he asked, taking another step closer.

"No, I can't get it out of my head that Morgause might have lied to me," she too took a step forwards. "But I suppose you have your own ideas about this."

She waited, offering him the chance to voice his opinion.

"I think … that she told you what she thought was the truth."

Morgana frowned slightly at his take on the matter.

"But I'm not saying that what she thought was right is right."

"No?"

"No. I think that you shouldn't have turned against us. I'm sorry about not telling you about who I am sooner."

"That's alright," she grew closer to him, so there was only a few feet space between the two. "I understand why you never told me. You're destined to be my doom, of course you wouldn't have told me."

His face paled.

"Your _doom_?" he asked, stunned.

Morgana cursed herself silently.

"That's what I've been told, but it doesn't matter."

She grasped both his hands in her own.

"What – what I'm trying to say Merlin, is –"

"Merlin!" Arthur shouted from outside the cell.

Merlin ignored him.

"What is it?" he prompted.

"I … I'm so –"

"Merlin!"

The door opened to reveal Arthur. He stepped inside and looked surprised to see them grasping each others hands. Morgana let her hands fall.

"You've had enough time, come on," he said to his manservant, waiting for him to leave.

Merlin looked back at Morgana. He hesitated.

"Good luck," he said eventually.

"You too," she replied, giving him a smile.

Merlin left the cell and didn't look back.

* * *

_How was it? Do you think I got this scene right? Comments needed!_

_I thougt that Morgana could have been burnt at the stake for being a sorcerer, but I felt Arthur would rather kill her for her other crimes as he seems to be taking a lighter view on magic than Uther did, which would mean she would be executed for treason instead._

_See that blue button down there? If you write something in the box and then click on it, cookies will suddenly spring out of your monitor._


	14. Chapter 14

_Hello all, I'm back. We got back from the Games early (the canoeing was awesome by the way) and I actually managed to write this chapter yesterday. But then when I tried to upload it my computer went wibbly-wobbly-not-quite-timey-wimey so I gave up. You ought to get the next chapter some time later today._

_Hey, the cookie thing actually worked! Either that or the chapter was so amazing you felt compelled to tell me. No? Fine, burst my bubble. Okay, this time if you leave a review a month's supply of chocolate will erupt from your printer._

* * *

Arthur sat at the table in his chambers and tried not to think about the fact that he had just sentenced his own sister to death.

_Stop it_, he said to himself. _Think of what she's done. Think of what she did to Merlin._

But he couldn't stop thinking about it of course. He couldn't rid himself of the image of Merlin's marred body. He couldn't stop hearing the scream Gwaine had given when he had been cut by the knife. He couldn't stop imagining how painful it must have been.

He was amazed that Merlin hadn't given her the information she had been seeking. The pain he must have been in. But from what he had gathered, he hadn't once given in to her, he hadn't told her. Which brought him to another point. Why? Why had he been willing to endure such torture for the sake of a sorcerer? Gaius had said that the old man had nothing against either him or Camelot, but was he really worth such an ordeal? It was very hard to see why he would be this important. Perhaps there was more to the matter than he had originally thought.

He knew Merlin hadn't been entirely truthful when he'd questioned him in the woods, he clearly had left out certain details and downright lied about others. Arthur knew he wouldn't be getting the truth any time soon, so he made a mental note to ask Merlin about it again at a later date.

He thought about what had just happened in the dungeons. Merlin had come running in, almost knocking Arthur senseless in the process, and then asked to speak to Morgana. This had surprised Arthur. The last thing he had expected was for Merlin to ask an audience of the woman who had previously tortured him.

Anyway, he had let him enter Morgana's cell and shut the door behind him. He had heard slight snatches of conversation, but the only bit he had properly understood was when Merlin asked her if she was scared.

"About my death?" she replied. "No. I've never been scared of death, maybe a little of dying, but not death. I just wish I could figure out the difference between truth and lies before I go."

He admired her bravery in the face of her execution, but was confused by the last line. Truth and lies? It sounded like she was having some sort of internal conflict, unable to decide what was real and what wasn't.

He was surprised by the lack of hostility in her voice when speaking to Merlin. When she had spoken to him in the council room it had been with hate, she seemed to show no remorse for all the things she'd done to him.

And then when he'd finally decided that the two had had enough time to talk about goodness knows what other rubbish, he'd walked in to find them holding hands. _Holding hands._ What the hell? She'd been torturing the man just a few days ago and now they were _holding hands_? What was happening to the world?

His thoughts were interrupted when the door crashed open, banging against the wall. Merlin ran in and Arthur sighed exasperated.

"Merlin, will you ever learn to knock?" he said, frustrated.

"Erm, probably not. Arthur, can I talk to you about Morgana?" he rushed.

"Yes, in fact I'd like to talk to you about her as well," he said, standing up.

"Really?" he said, surprised.

"Yes. Why were you two holding hands?"

Merlin looked taken aback.

"What?" he said. "No we weren't."

"Yes you were. What was going on between you two? I don't know if you remember, but she was torturing you just three days ago," he said patronizingly.

"I know that," he snapped.

"Then what are you playing at?" he said, his voice rising angrily. "She's the enemy! She's going to be executed at dawn tomorrow!"

"Arthur, what if she isn't the enemy?" he began, hesitantly. "What if she's still the same person underneath? Morgause changed her, filled her head with hate, but she's still there! I know it! The same Morgana we used to know. She's still there Arthur!"

Arthur shut out these words, knowing they were lies. Morgana would never return.

"Merlin, you don't know what you're saying," he said, calming his anger.

"Yes I do. She's already having doubts, she's unsure of what's real and what's not. We can help her! Show her what the truth is. She's not going to come back, not if you don't forgive her –"

"How can I forgive her?! How can I let all of her crimes go? Think about everything she's done to us! Remember what she did to you!"

Grabbing his servant's arm, he yanked his sleeve upwards, revealing the blemished skin. Merlin yanked his sleeve back down angrily, recovering the cuts.

"She said she was sorry, or she was about to, before you barged in," he said, spitefully.

Arthur was shocked to hear him standing up for her like this, he doubted he would have done so just a few days ago.

"What … what are you talking about? She would never apologise."

"She did."

Merlin's stormy blue eyes had gone dark; they were foreboding, warning him to back down. But Arthur would have none of that.

"Merlin, think about what you're saying. This is Morgana we're talking about. The woman who betrayed us all. There's no chance of her redemption, not any more."

The words pained him. He still wanted to believe that the girl he had grown up with was there somewhere, waiting to come back to him, but he knew she wasn't. She was long gone.

"No," he said, backing away. "No, you're wrong. Please, Arthur. We can help her."

"Go away Merlin," he said, turning his back to him. "Leave me."

"She could change! She could ask for forgiveness!" he shouted. "You could be murdering someone with the potential to be an honest person!"

"_Honest?!_ She is anything but honest. She lied to us, to everyone. She's probably just been lying to you, trying to make you think she's innocent. She is a liar and always will be!"

He had taken a few steps forwards so the two men now stood face to face, glaring at each other.

"You're wrong!"

Merlin stepped backwards, and didn't stop.

"You're wrong," he said again.

"Merlin!" he called, but it was too late.

Merlin had run from the room, the edge of his jacket whipping out of sight.

Arthur turned to the table and planted his fists on the wood. Merlin would see sense … he hoped. He was stumped as to what could have changed his mind so quickly about Morgana, and then a horrid thought crept into his mind.

Merlin couldn't be … enchanted, could he? What if Morgana had done something to him in the past couple of weeks? What if she had altered his mind somehow?

He felt an awful fear clutch his heart, but then calmed himself and melted the fear with another thought, a fact. People's magic always died with them. When Morgana died, he would be free. That is if he was even enchanted at all.

* * *

Elaine smiled. There. Emrys had done it. Morgana was beginning to change.

She had merely planted the seed of doubt in Morgana's mind; he had been the one to make it grow. And growing it was. It was only small at the moment, barely noticeable, but soon it would flourish. Soon it would become something beautiful.

She knew how scared her sister was at the moment, despite her efforts to hide her fear. But, in the face of her fear, she was being incredibly brave. Elaine was proud of her. She reminded her of herself, when she was younger she had refused to ever show any fear, no matter what the circumstances.

She looked to the sky. It was almost dawn, the time of Morgana's execution. She had stayed on the battlements all night, the guards had walked straight past her, somehow none of them had noticed the woman in the midnight blue cloak sitting on the stone wall.

She smiled sadly and stood up. It was time.

* * *

The day of Morgana's execution dawned bright and clear, with only the slightest of chills in the air. It seemed to Merlin as though the sky was mocking Morgana's death, laughing at the turn of events.

Half of the lower town was packed into the courtyard, all gathered around the raised platform in the middle. The lone figure of the executioner stood atop it.

Merlin hadn't been to Arthur's chambers that morning; he still hadn't forgiven him for what he had said the day before. He would probably give him some of the worst possible chores imaginable later on to make him pay for skipping work.

He stood in amongst the crowd, wondering why he was even there. He didn't want to see this and he couldn't do anything to stop it, not without revealing who he was.

The murmured whisperings around the courtyard died away. Merlin looked up and saw Arthur coming out to stand on the balcony with his knights. The king looked solemnly down on his people and then redirected his gaze to the archway leading into the courtyard.

Morgana was being led through it, her hands bound and her head down. It wasn't the same Morgana Merlin had seen a few days ago. She was still wearing the same dress, slightly torn at the bottom, but her hair was matted and tangled. Her cheeks were hollow, as though she hadn't eaten properly in weeks. Guards walked on either side of her, guiding her towards her death.

As she walked through the crowd, people hissed at her, their eyes showing nothing but hate for the woman before them. Merlin bit back the urge to yell at these people. It wasn't fair. She didn't deserve to die like this, no matter what crimes she had committed. She at least deserved to be given the chance to apologise properly. He knew that was what she had been going to say to him, and yet she hadn't even been able to get the words out, Arthur had intervened before she could say it.

Morgana grew ever closer to the platform, her eyes still firmly staring at the ground. But when she passed Merlin, they flitted upwards to meet his. For a second she hesitated, frozen on the spot, then she shoved the guard to her left away from her and ran towards him. People backed away hurriedly, escaping the evil witch. Morgana didn't give them a glance either way, she just headed for him.

He was startled, shocked by the intensity in her eyes. A guard caught her arms from behind and she cried out, struggling against his grip.

"Merlin!" she called. "Merlin," her eyes found his again.

"I'm sorry," she said.

His lips parted slightly, his blue eyes locked to her green. She had said it …

"Forgive me," she beseeched him, the guard starting to haul her away.

He couldn't say anything, he was frozen.

"Merlin!" she called once again.

His eyes welled up with tears. He choked them back and nodded.

"Yes," he said, barely audible.

But she had caught his nod and smiled gratefully, filled with joy. In that one smile he saw the old Morgana, the one person he had been longing to see for years.

But that smile was about to be rid from the world forever. He had to do something. He made an involuntary movement forwards. Morgana saw this and violently shook her head. She didn't want him to use his magic to save her. She didn't want him to risk it. She was prepared to die.

As she was led up the steps towards the executioner, Merlin's first tears fell, running down his cheeks. He did nothing to stop them coming, he could only watch as his friend was led to her death.

* * *

Morgana was led up to the platform, the two guards grasping her arms tightly, just in case she would make another break for it. But she wouldn't. She had got what she wanted, Merlin's forgiveness.

Something had happened to her that last night. After Merlin had left her cell, she had thought over his words. And then, when she had woken up that morning, she had realised. She _had_ betrayed him. All those times she had done what she thought was right and she had been betraying him. She had hurt and tortured and enchanted and tried to kill him, and yet he was now crying as her last few minutes came to a close. He had an incredibly pure and unselfish heart.

Once Morgana was upon the platform, she was forced to face the balcony and her brother. Arthur looked down on her, slight confusion upon his face. Still, her performance hadn't changed anything, and he opened his mouth to speak.

"Morgana Pendragon," he said, his voice carrying impressively around the courtyard. "You have been found guilty of treason and numerous other crimes against Camelot and its people, and are hereby sentenced to death."

She hung her head and closed her eyes. This was it. Her last moments. _Say goodbye Morgana_, she thought. She was suddenly incredibly aware of all her senses. She could hear all the mutterings around the courtyard, and even fancied she could hear Arthur breathing on the balcony. Her mouth was dry, and she licked her lips, trying to bring some moisture to them.

It occurred to her that she should say something. Her last words. Only nothing came to mind, so instead she just laid her head upon the block before the executioner.

Cailleach had been right. Emrys would be her doom. He hadn't meant it intentionally, but yes, he had been her doom. She would die here, thanks to the spell he had cast upon her, making her lose her magic. She had figured it had been him; Elaine hadn't been anywhere near that first time. She didn't blame him; she would have done the same if their positions had been reversed.

She thought about the nod he had just given her, his eyes full of tears, and smiled inwardly. He had forgiven her, yet it would take a lot longer to forgive herself. Still, it wasn't like she had much time left.

Morgana wondered what would come next. Was there an afterlife? She hoped she wouldn't go to Hell. She had never really thought about what came after life, preferring to concentrate on life itself. But perhaps there wasn't anything after all, maybe this was just it.

From the corner of her eye, she saw the executioner raise their axe. She mentally prepared herself and closed her eyes. In her last few seconds, she thought about Merlin. She remembered his goofy smile and felt a small tear leak out of her closed eyelid.

She heard the swish of the axe as it swung towards her neck.

* * *

_Don't-kill-me-don't-kill-me-don't-kill-me-don't-kill-me! I'm sorry! I promise I'll lay off the cliff-hangers for the rest of this story!_

_So half of you probably want to murder me right now, but when you read the next chapter (assuming that I'll get the chance to write it) I hope you'll understand why I did this._


	15. Epilogue

_Here it is, the last chapter! *sob* This has gone so quickly! Oh, and I've discovered Merlin Spell Wiki. :)_

_This chapter's quite short, so I hope it sums everything up._

* * *

Merlin stared at the scars on his arms. It had been over a month since he'd got them, yet they were still plain to see, white marks crisscrossing over his pale skin. There was one scar just above his wrist which was curved slightly, reminding him horribly of the knife that put it there. It seemed that was another thing the Blade did, it gave you scars you would have for the rest of your life.

He ran his finger along his forearm, tracing the blemishes on his skin. He would have these always; a reminder of what Morgana did to him. But instead of using them to remind him of when she tortured him, he used them to remind him of the events that followed; her redemption.

In the last few moments before she had been led away to the executioners axe, she had completely forgiven him for any wrongs he had done her and he had done exactly the same for her. He wished he could speak more to her about it. But no, she was gone, and he wouldn't see her for a very long time.

He wondered if he would ever see her again. That would be nice. They could talk about what had happened. He could see the smile of his friend again.

He thought back to what had happened on the day of the execution and shivered. The way he had felt when the axe dropped. Every time he thought of that moment his flesh grew cold, and he swore he could feel his scars prickle.

He wished Morgana was here. He wished he could speak to her, talk about how he felt. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that just as soon as she had redeemed herself, she had been taken from him. But it had happened and he couldn't change that fact. He shook himself and told himself that it was better that she was where she was. It was better than being here. If she was, Arthur would most likely try to execute her again. She was better off where she was; she was safe there.

He rolled down his sleeves, covering the reminders that refused to let him forget her. He rested his head in his hand tried to get a grip. It wasn't like she was dead.

* * *

Nobody had been expecting what had happened on the day of the execution. And because of what happened nobody would ever underestimate sorcerers again.

Merlin watched the axe swinging towards Morgana's bare neck, he couldn't close his eyes; he was frozen. Every fibre of his being was screaming at him to do something, stop this from happening. He finally made his resolve and raised his hand. But then the axe stopped. He hadn't done anything, yet it was hanging above her neck, just an inch away from piercing her skin. Everyone stared, no one moved. It was as though time had frozen. The executioner lifted the axe once more and placed it against the block. They looked up at Arthur, who stared back at them, his mouth slightly open. They looked down again at Morgana and said aloud so everyone could hear, "It is not your time to die Morgana."

Morgana lifted her head slowly and looked up at her saviour, shock written across her face.

The executioner glanced up at the balcony again and lifted off their mask.

It was Elaine.

Merlin stared in complete and utter shock at the figure upon the platform. She offered her hand to Morgana who took it and stood up. Elaine turned to Arthur and said, "Sorry to cut the execution short, but you will regret this if you let it continue. I promise I will return your sister to you in time. The one you grew up with, not the one who betrayed you. I hope that in time you will come to see the good in her."

She smiled up at him and said, "Goodbye Arthur."

Turning to the crowd, she spotted Merlin and gave him a jovial wave.

"Goodbye Merlin!" she called.

The people just stared at her, wondering if the woman was completely sane.

She took both of Morgana's hands in her own and said, "Come sister, we must leave now."

She started to weave a spell, her eyes glowing gold.

"Bedyrne ús. Astýre ús þanonweard."

A powerful whirlwind began to form in the courtyard, centred on the two half-sisters. Dirt and dust was blown into the air, stinging the eyes of those closest. Morgana's eyes widened and she turned around looking into the crowd.

"Wait!" she shouted.

Her eyes met Merlin's and she held out a hand, reaching for him.

"No!"

But it was too late; the whirlwind swept her up and vanished as quickly as it had started. Elaine was gone, as was Morgana.

* * *

Morgana was waiting. She was waiting for the time when she would return to Camelot. She was anticipating the moment with excitement, looking forward to seeing her old home. She wanted to go now, but Elaine wouldn't let her. She said it wasn't time. When it would be time, Morgana didn't know, but she was impatient for it to come.

She wanted to see Camelot again; she wanted to see it in all of its summer glory. She wanted to see Gwen and apologise for all that she had done to her, she wanted to speak to Arthur and ask his forgiveness, she wanted to tell the people how sorry she was for all her crimes.

But most of all she wanted to see Merlin and continue their conversation from the cell. She was missing him, more than she thought she would. He was her friend, he had always been her friend, only now did she realise it. She wished she could have given him a better apology; still, she was lucky to have been able to say anything at all.

The time would come soon, it had to. It had been years since she'd last been in Camelot.

Morgana was waiting, waiting for the time when she would return.

"Morgana."

She was wrenched from her reverie and turned to face Elaine.

"Yes sister?" she asked.

Elaine had found her sitting on the cliff, watching the tide coming in. They were not far from their home, which was situated as far away from other people as possible.

Elaine came and sat down next to her, dangling her legs over the side of the cliff.

"Maybe we should get a change of scenery," she said, raising her face to the sun.

Morgana waited for her to say something else.

"How about Camelot?" she said simply.

A slow smile crept across Morgana's face.

"It's time?"

Elaine smiled at her.

"Yes. It is time."

* * *

_Gotcha! Who thought she was actually dead? Tee hee, I'm mean; but not evil enough to actually kill off one of my favourite characters. *shifty eyes* But then again …_

_So this is it! The end of my first fanfic! Frankly, I am amazed at the response this story has got. This is actually the first time anyone (other than my English teacher) has read my work and I am astounded by the fact that people actually liked it! Before this, my confidence levels were pretty low and I thought I was a fairly rubbish writer, but you guys have changed that and given my self-esteem a huge boost! Thank you all so much!_

_I've got a treat for you guys; I've decided I'm writing a sequel! Originally I had planned to just leave it here, but I'm actually as curious as you lot are to how the events in this story will affect everyone … and I'm the one writing this thing!_

_I'm afraid you won't get anything for at least a week, because I'm going on holiday to Cornwall tomorrow. I'm going to take my laptop, but it doesn't have internet connection so I won't be able to upload anything. Sorry! Keep your eyes out for the sequel!_

* * *

The sequel is called Fate Keeps Us Apart. I hope it meets your expectations!


End file.
